


Rihannsu

by spockside



Series: Rihannsu [1]
Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alien Cultural Differences, Episode Related, F/M, Interspecies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-09
Updated: 2012-03-12
Packaged: 2017-11-01 17:26:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 29,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/359408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spockside/pseuds/spockside
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While still serving on Enterprise, Spock attends a conference on Vulcan and stays with his parents - and encounters a woman he never thought he would see again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rihannsu

**Author's Note:**

> This story refers to a Star Trek episode titled "The Enterprise Incident", in which the Romulan commander is not named. In later canon (novels) she is identified by various names, none of which I have used here.

Amanda looked over – well, past – her husband's shoulder at the form materializing on the transporter pad. The tall Vulcan who solidified and stepped down off the platform saluted Sarek.

"Father."

"Spock."

Once this protocol had been observed, Sarek was inwardly amused to watch his wife pounce on their son, taking both his hands as he leaned down to kiss her cheek. "Hello, Mother. You look well." _Another kind of protocol_ , thought Sarek, _but just as important_.

"The captain and Dr. McCoy asked me to convey their regards. McCoy's exact words were, 'Tell her any woman who could raise you to adulthood in one piece has earned my admiration.'"

"How thoughtful. I am sorry they weren't able to join you on your visit."

"I will have to spend the majority of my time at the conference, Mother. I regret this is not an occasion for leisure."

"Oh, I know." She took his arm as they followed Sarek into the living area. "But you will stay here, won't you? In the guesthouse?"

"If I may."

"Of course you may. Come and go as you please, and join us for meals when you can."

He joined them for the evening meal. He knew his mother's eye was upon him, so he made sure to consume adequate amounts of food. Mothers, he had learned, were forever mothers, no matter what one's age or profession.

After dinner, he and his father walked in the garden.

"There will be a celebration in four days, for your mother's birthday," Sarek reminded his son.

"Of course. I will need to find a suitable gift; I had not prepared for the occasion before I came, as I expected to have some little time for the task."

"A reasonable expectation." They strolled in silence for a while. Then Sarek asked, "Tell me, if you can, has the Federation had any dealings with Romulans of late?"

Spock was taken aback, but of course did not show it. "Not to my knowledge. Since we - procured their cloaking device, their patrols in the Neutral Zone have been even more frequent, and more cautious. May I inquire as to the purpose of your query?"

"There was some discussion at the Science Academy recently, over the possibility of re-establishing some kind of connection with the Romulans. I strongly believe an exchange of cultural and scientific ideas would be beneficial to both our societies." Had he been human, he would have sighed. "However, if no official communication has been initiated, that day is most likely still far off."

"Unfortunately, there has been none, classified or otherwise."

"I know you share my views regarding our reacquaintance with our distant kin, Spock." Sarek turned to gaze at his son. "I trust that I may rely on your support when the time comes to act upon them."

"Indeed you may, Father."

Later, Spock prepared for his evening's meditation and sat before the candle, but he did not close his eyes and concentrate. Instead his gaze wandered out the glass door, toward the horizon, and his thoughts wandered as well, elusive memories of his one encounter with a Romulan.

_"How rare, and how beautiful."_

_The sweep of her hair brushed against his cheek. She smiled._

_"But so incongruous, coming from the lips of a soldier."_

_"If you will give me a moment, the soldier will transform herself into a woman." She rose and disappeared into another room. When she returned, he found himself willing to prolong this interview indefinitely. Now that he had contacted the Captain, surely there would be time to enjoy the company of this formidable woman, if only for an hour._

_But it was not to be._

_Later, after he and Kirk had successfully stolen the cloaking device and returned to the_ Enterprise _, along with their unwilling passenger, she had said, "It will be our secret."_

Why was this thought surfacing now, years later, on his home planet, far from where they had last met?

Spock found himself shaking his head, and settled himself once more to meditate.


	2. Tanafau

Three days later, Spock extricated himself from the last and most tedious of the seminars, ostensibly to find a gift for his mother. He had forgotten how pleasant it was to walk through the old city, the marketplaces, the artists' quarter. He found himself looking into the window of a gallery which seemed to feature small sculptures and figures, and went inside.

The lighting in the large airy room was dim, each stand and shelf lit from below. Most of the materials were native stone, crystal, blown or cut glass, some as small as his fist. Hands clasped behind his back, he moved slowly from piece to piece, wondering which would please his mother and where the gallery owner was. He was halted before a crystal tablet, approximately twenty centimeters across, with intricate inner carving. The carving depicted two birds, one in the foreground, one in the background, so that when the tablet was turned over their positions were reversed. He looked closer. One bird was a _teresh-kah_ , the silver bird of Vulcan, a species which sang at dawn to greet the sun, according to ancient myth. The other -

The other was a Romulan raptor. Yet another reference to the Romulan culture. The coincidence was intriguing.

"You honor my establishment, Commander Spock."

He turned to see her standing approximately twenty feet behind him. Spock blinked.

"I'm sure you remember my name," she said, taking a few steps forward. "But I no longer use it. I am known now as _Tanafau_ (artist). This is my establishment." She came closer, stopped again ten feet away, cocked her head a little, the half-smile he remembered forming on her lips. "Your eloquence seems to have deserted you, Mr. Spock. Or was it a special effort on your part, when last we met?"

She had not changed. Her bearing was regal, her expression dignified, her chin lifted as if in defiance. Her abundant hair was braided and wound around her head like a coronet, out of which he could see the delicate points of her ears. She wore a garment like a coverall, made of blue silk with a darker blue sash across her breast. She was so still the sash barely moved with her breathing.

The last time he had seen her, she had been a commander in the fleet of the Romulan Empire.

He found his voice. "Your presence inspired me to - an unusual degree."

Her eyes brightened at the sound of his voice. "So you do remember."

"The Vulcan memory is not subject to the vagaries of time, as with other species."

"I see. Does the Vulcan memory recall every detail of our brief encounter?"

"Every moment," he replied, holding her gaze. It did not waver, but it seemed to challenge him.

She said only, "I did say you would learn to appreciate Romulan culture."

"It seems you have brought it to Vulcan."

She studied him for a moment, then said, "I'm about to close the gallery. Will you join me for tea?" As he hesitated, she added, "At a local cafe, of course. I understand the Vulcan standards of propriety." Her expression seemed to indicate that she didn't agree with them.

"Most welcome."

They sat in a cool corner with their repast, and she told him her story.

"I was a political - guest - of the Federation for two years," she said. "Once they realized that I would tell them nothing useful, they allowed me to live on Starbase VI under surveillance for six more months. After that, I was free to go where I pleased. But I couldn't go. My people would not have taken me in; I no longer existed for them. My name is most likely already removed from any records, because of my disgrace. You know that Romulans abandon those who have been captured; it is our way of cutting our losses."

"That is unfortunate."

"It gave me a chance to reinvent myself, as the humans say." She shrugged, but he could see the pain in her eyes. "I was befriended by your mother, of all people. In her travels, on Starbase VI, she saw my art, and we struck up a correspondence. It wasn't until she mentioned her son's name and position that I realized who she was."

She gazed out the window for a moment, then seemed to recollect what she was doing and went on, "I did not have the means to leave the base. When she discovered what I was - not from me! - she offered me assistance if I wished to relocate. I would have taken any opportunity to make a new life on a living world. Amanda believes that if my people will not accept me, I still have a place among my Vulcan cousins." Now her smile was skeptical. "Either your mother is naive, or the Vulcan race is more accepting of strangers than they appear. I make a modest living from my art. I'm happier here than I was on Starbase VI. But I will never belong here."

 _Then you and I have something in common_ , thought Spock. Aloud he said, "My mother is not as naive as she is optimistic."

She laughed and her face warmed. "Your mother is very proud of you, Spock. As she should be."

"It is kind of you to say so."

"A polite platitude." She leaned forward. "I don't speak out of kindness. Amanda speaks often of you, your life. It has been to me like being part of a family. And I have not been part of anything, for a long time." Any other woman would have been weeping; her eyes were dry. "I don't say these things to taunt you. She is the best friend I could hope for in my exile."

"You have made your own way, then," he said. "With no name, no past, no family. I admire you for it."

"Admiration? Isn't that an emotion?" She sat back, looking amused and skeptical.

"You have lived among my people; you know by now that emotions are not as alien to us as is widely believed."

"I have never believed it, Spock." There was a flicker of - longing? sadness? across her face. Then it was gone and she said, more practically, "What did you think of my work?"

"Is the crystal bird sculpture one of yours?"

She looked pleased. "Yes. It's one of my favorites, something from my heart."

"It is quite remarkable. The juxtaposition of the birds caught my eye." He went on, almost hesitantly, "Is it by any chance for sale?"

"To the right buyer, perhaps." She named a price. "I would give it to you, for old times' sake, but I must make a living."

"Of course." He did not insult her by offering more. "It is for my mother's birthday."

Her face lit up with delight. "Perfect! Come back to the gallery and I'll pack it properly for you."

They returned to the darkened gallery and she took the piece back to a work room, where she wrapped it in fabric and lay it in a simple wooden box. He paid her for it and she said simply, "Thank you. I know she will enjoy it."

Spock followed her out the door of her establishment, saying, "Is it safe for you to leave here alone at this hour?" It was now fully dark. She smiled and said, "I'll be all right. I have not forgotten my combat training."

The comment was so incongruous he did not know how to respond. As her smile faded, she leaned up on tiptoe and he unconsciously dipped his head as she kissed his cheek, lightly, fleetingly.

"Good night, Spock."

And she walked briskly away, not looking back, into the darkness.


	3. Unfinished business

Sarek had to speak to him twice to get his attention at breakfast the next morning.

"Spock. Did you hear my question?" He had not had to use that tone for many years, not with his son.

"Forgive me, Father," said Spock. "My mind was elsewhere. Please repeat your question."

"Have you found a gift for your mother?"

"I have. Would you like to see it?"

"Certainly. She is out of the house at the moment, although I do not know when she will return."

"Come to the guesthouse, then."

His father examined the crystal sculpture for a long time.

"You have found a rare gift, Spock," he said finally. "I believe she will enjoy this very much. May I ask where you found it?"

"In a gallery in the artists' quarter. I was 'window shopping', as Mother calls it."

"This is a Romulan emblem, is it not?"

"I believe it is. As you and Mother are both advocates for Vulcan-Romulan cultural relations, I surmised that this representation might be appropriate." It was the absolute truth. The fact that the artist was the only known Romulan currently living in Federation space, who was known to his parents, seemed an unnecessary detail. He did not know why he withheld it.

His father gazed at him thoughtfully. He knew, of course, where it had most likely come from.

"I see. Thank you for showing it to me, Spock."

Spock's presence was not required in helping his mother prepare for next day's party, so he removed himself from underfoot and went for a restless walk. He had meditated, last night and this morning, and indeed was feeling physically quite well. His mind, however, was occupied, as if he were attempting to solve a difficult equation, yet he was not sure he had all the data. The subject that rose most frequently to his conscious mind was Tanafau and her history. There was no puzzle to solve there. She was alive, settled, befriended, earning her keep at something she enjoyed. What then was this feeling that there was something he needed to say to her?

Emotions. He had become more comfortable admitting he had them, but that did not make them easier to deal with.

He looked up to find himself once more in the artists' quarter. The unconscious mind had brought him here; perhaps, he thought illogically, it had some idea what he should do now. Then he shook himself mentally. Ridiculous, useless, pointless - He turned back, toward the wine seller's shop, intending to find a bottle to bring back to his crewmates.

Standing where the paths of stone crossed and circled, out of the way of pedestrians, Tanafau looked one way, then the other, as if searching for something, and her eye fell upon a tall figure which had just turned toward her. Her arm almost shot up to wave at him; just in time, she recalled herself. Amanda, or any of the offworlders Tanafau knew, would not have been embarrassed by such a display. But for some reason she did not want to offend _him_.

Spock had spotted her anyway, and came across to stand beside her.

"We seem destined to cross paths," she smiled. In the daylight he could see glimmers of gold in her hair.

"Indeed. Is your gallery unstaffed, then?"

"No, I have an assistant working for me in the afternoons. I just came out for a walk. I needed...to clear my mind."

"May I ask a personal question?" he said as they fell into step, walking he knew not where.

"You may," she said, but her tone was wary.

"You did not seek assistance from - anyone after your stay on _Enterprise_. You endured your detention and exile alone."

"Yes."

"Yet there were those who would have assisted you, guided you." _Protected you_ , he thought, but he did not say it, not knowing how she would react nor why he was even thinking it. What was wrong with him today? She had stopped, in the middle of a path, and was staring at him, not with confusion but with anger.

"Who would have done so, Spock? You? Your people?" Before he could speak, she went on. "You are assuming I would have accepted such assistance. I tell you that the day I need another being, much less an alien, to pull me up from my fall is the day I deserve to be left in the dirt. I did not look for help. I did not need it, as you see. I am no refugee, no charity case, and I will not endure the pity of those who can't fathom what my other life was like."

"What was it like?" he asked quietly when she stopped for breath.

"Glorious," she said, and it was as if she had been waiting for someone to ask her that question. "Stimulating. Difficult. A struggle, every day, to command respect. An honor to serve my people, an honor to be one of the few women in such a position of power." Her eyes burned into his. "It was glorious."

"I understand," he said simply, and her expression changed.

"I believe you do," she said. "You have been offworld, seen galaxies and empires and species no one has seen before. You can meet someone not of your race without some preconceived notion of what they are. I can speak to you and know that you're not just curious about the Rihan woman, the exile, the foreigner. Whatever you may think of me, Spock, it's a relief to be with someone who sees me, and not a caricature of what they think I am."

She stopped speaking abruptly and took a deep breath, not looking at him but past the low buildings, here where the outskirts of Shi'Kahr faded into the hills, out into the open sky.

"Shall I tell you what I think of you?"

She shook her head.

"Seeing you again, Spock - even after we spent only an hour together in another lifetime - it's like - " She stopped to look directly at him, as if facing an execution squad. "No, I will not go there. What's done is done, and I can only go in one direction at a time. You're my past, Spock, not my future, and I can only survive by keeping my vision on the future."

"Can I not be a part of your future?" He drew closer to look down at her. "In any capacity?"

Her eyes searched his. She shook her head once more and said, almost inaudibly, "No. Go back to Starfleet and out of my life, Spock. I can live with Amanda's memories and stories of you. But not with you here." She began to walk away. Spock had by now discerned the nature of his unfinished business and went after her.

"Go away, Mr. Spock," she said without stopping or looking around.

"I cannot, Commander."

"Don't call me that."

"Nevertheless."

"Are you going to follow me home?"

"You cannot dismiss me so easily, Commander."

"Don't - !" This time she did stop, whirling, her hand raised, ready to strike. He did not flinch.

"You cannot relive your past," he said. "But you cannot escape it, either. And neither can I."

"You? What would you need to escape from?"

"I do not wish to escape my past. I wish to embrace it."

They walked the rest of the way to her home in silence. In silence she let him in, and in silence he stood in her living area. She came to face him.

"Explain," she demanded.

"Specify," he shot back.

"What did you mean when you said you wished to embrace your past, and what does it have to do with me?"

Now that he had to put his thoughts into words, he wasn't sure where to begin. The beginning, he thought.

"It was unfortunate that we met as the result of a military incident. In other circumstances, we might have had - something more."

"The thought did cross my mind at the time."

He nodded. "I do not speak of this in order to simply bring up memories. I ask if, perhaps, this might be our opportunity to explore the possibility of something more. Without the interference of the military, of technology, of our cultures, of powers beyond our command."

She was still, staring at him. Perhaps she didn't understand. He tried to explain further.

"I do not believe in fate or karma. But it seems logical to me that, given another chance to begin a friendship, we should take that chance."

"Why?" He saw that she understood him now, but she wanted to hear him say it.

He thought of all the logical reasons, all the practical reasons, then named an illogical one.

"Curiosity. And perhaps hope."

She hadn't expected that. "Hope of what?"

"Hope of companionship. Hope that neither you nor I will be alone in the universe any longer."

Her eyes widened and for a moment her "commander" visage softened. Then she turned away from him and said, "Very romantic, for a Vulcan. Have you come here only to finish the seduction you began years ago?"

"And if I have?"

"You may go now. I will not be taken out of pity, or to settle a score, or to satisfy your curiosity."

"That is not what I meant."

'What, then?" She spun back to face him again.

"Only that you are still strong, and brave, and beautiful..."

He raised his hand, palm out, his fingers parted in a motion similar to the Vulcan salute.

"...and desirable."


	4. The Vulcan way

She caught her breath, searched his face again. Enigmatic, as he had been then, but she knew now how strongly the currents ran beneath the Vulcan facade. And he was still desirable as well. She raised her hand to touch his and saw him breathe deeply; his eyes were shining. His long fingers moved against hers, slowly, in an age-old pattern of exploration. She closed her eyes and, for the first time in years, allowed herself to be lost in sensation. The skin of her hands felt sensitized; it seemed that every brush or pressure of his hand brought fresh desire.

She was beginning to tremble, very slightly, when she felt his lips against her temple. She did not open her eyes but leaned into the kiss, maintaining contact with his hand. His other hand rested on her shoulder. She heard him say softly, " _Vakshurik_ (beautiful one)," and his mouth moved from her temple to her ear, dropping light kisses as he went. Suddenly she could stand the tension no longer and closed both her hands over his, bringing them to her mouth, kissing and nipping gently on his fingers. He sighed against her ear and stroked her cheek with the back of his free hand.

"It's very delicate, the Vulcan way," she murmured. "You and I have shared this touch before."

"Not so deeply as this," he replied softly.

"No," she agreed, and raised her eyes to his. "But you have rekindled a fire that I thought would be dead by now, and you must now deal with the consequences."

She saw Spock's eyes flash, and the next moment he had freed his hands, taking her by the back of the neck with one and by the hip with the other, pulling her against him and bringing his mouth down to hers. She lay her hands on his chest and lifted her head to meet him, feeling his heart pounding against her side.

He would not release her; his hands were like iron, holding her in place while his lips and tongue possessed her; she could not so much as turn her head, even if she had wanted to. She slipped her hands down his spine, further down, exploring, and felt his breath catch. His insistent mouth softened; she broke free and stepped back, panting. They stared at each other for a moment. Then she tossed her mane back with a jerk of her head, turned on her heel and strode away from him.

Spock followed more slowly. He was not blinded by _pon farr_ ; he could think rationally, or as rationally as his desire would allow. They were adults, and unbonded; obviously his desire was reciprocated. There was no logical reason to resist his urges, which had been fanned into flame by his contact with her body.

He entered the room she had gone into, a sleeping chamber, and rational thought fled.

He had thought her beautiful clothed; her appearance unclothed was breathtaking. Her hair fell across her breast and shoulders, down to her waist, the tips of her ears just visible in the midst of its mass. Her pale skin seemed to glow in the dying light from the window. She knelt in the center of the bed, shoulders thrown back, breasts forward as if in challenge. He took a step forward . She watched him like a _le-matya_.

He took another step, pulling his tunic over his head. She drew a deep breath as his body was revealed, as strong and lean as she had imagined. He removed the rest of his clothing, making sure she could see his every move, presenting himself for her perusal. He turned at last, and his expression invited her comment.

She said sharply, "Stand." He stood still and said, "Do I pass inspection, commander?"

She smiled. Unfolding herself, she slid off the bed and came within arm's reach, but he resisted the urge to seize her, sensing that she preferred to lead.

Now she was looking him up and down as she circled slowly. This did not embarrass Spock; nothing ever did, particularly not his state of undress. He felt her small hands on his shoulder blades, stroking down his sides to rest on his hips, her thumbs tracing his spine. She leaned her forehead against his back and her hair spilled over his skin; she felt him shiver infinitesimally and smiled again.

She slid her hands over his hips as she moved around in front of him. He stood still but she could feel the blood pounding under his skin as her palms smoothed up his torso, raking fingers through his body hair, lightly tracing his clavicle. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

"Your control is considerable," she murmured, looking down at his flaccidity. "Or perhaps your desire is not as strong as you believed."

Spock's eyes snapped open. "And what do you believe, Commander?" He felt oddly aroused by her tone. It was not often that he was truly treated as a subordinate.

"I believe I will test your control," she said and slipped her hand down to wrap her fingers around his penis. It satisfied her to hear him gasp and feel the blood rush to his organ, its weight pressing against her hand. Spock's hands came up to grasp her shoulders and his mouth fell upon hers once more. This time she sank her nails into the back of his neck and matched his passion, still gripping his sex with her other hand.

Spock had become too accustomed to Vulcan or human lovers, the few times he had enjoyed them since his break with T'Pring. This female was aggressive in a way that none had been before; he found himself responding with increased urgency.

She kept her hold on his neck as she broke the kiss and released his sex, pulling him back on top of her on the bed. She felt tiny beneath him but he did not underestimate her. He managed to get hold of her wrists and held them against her chest with both his hands as he leaned on his elbows and went after her with his mouth, her ears, her lips, her throat, and she struggled in his grasp.

"You do not command here," she hissed, jerking her head away. "Release me."

He shook his head, pulling her wrists down over her belly so he could taste the nipples he had felt swelling against his skin. She let out a sound like a curse or a moan.

"I will take what I want," he growled, spurred into feral lust.

"You think so?"

She brought her knees up against his torso, at the same time twisting her wrists free of his grasp. She flung her legs apart and Spock felt her take hold of his hair and shove his head downward. The scent of her arousal nearly overpowered him.

"Give me," she groaned, "what I want. Then we will see."

"And if I refuse?" he said, although he did not know how that would be possible.

She leaned up to look at him, her amber eyes blazing.

"You will not refuse, Spock. You have waited too long for this. And so have I."

He could not argue with her logic. He wound his arms around her thighs, preventing her from clamping down on his head, and instead of applying his mouth to her sex he bit her thigh, firmly, not breaking the skin but leaving his mark. She cried out, not in pain but in pleasure, and he marked the other thigh as well. Nipping lightly across to her mound, he let his tongue take over, driving between her labia, not pausing to enjoy her flavor but bent on overwhelming her, possessing her.

She was thrashing under his mouth – _nearly a match for my strength_ , he realized, and this drove his passion even higher, turning his thought to the only thing that could make him abandon his current assault on her senses. Swiftly he moved up to cover her, keeping her knees apart with his own –

But before he could plunge into her she had turned the tables on him again. He had forgotten her hands were free; they clamped down on his shoulders in the exact spot where the nerve pinch was most effective on humans. It was slightly less effective on Vulcans, but it served her purpose; he was paralyzed enough, briefly, for her to shove him off her and position her center above his face.

For a moment she looked down at him, wild, triumphant. Then, as his hands came up to take hold of her, her expression became one of pure hunger. She gripped the bed frame and her hair fell around her face as she gasped, "Spock. Now."

He closed his eyes as he pulled her to his mouth, still urgent, but now for her pleasure. She had a unique taste, he noticed now, spicier than humans, stronger. She was not allowing him to take his time, however, thrusting down against his tongue, faster, pounding at him.

He felt her thigh muscles tense and strain and heard her shout something in her native tongue, then she went still above him as he drew her clitoris between his lips and sucked. She bucked once, twice, gave a long, loud moan, and he tasted her juices as they flowed into him, like wine, and just as heady.

Before she could take another breath Spock flipped her over on her back, pulling her legs up over his shoulders, spreading her wide to receive him. He nearly reached climax when his head touched her, but he tightened his control and slid into her with a shallow stroke, pulling out, sinking in a little further, feeling her inner heat clasping his length as he reached into the depths.

"Spock."

Her eyes were half closed, drunk from her own climax, her skin flushed.

"Spock, don't look away. Look at me. Let me see you reach completion."

She watched as he began to thrust, his mouth opening as if to take her in, the veins pulsing in his neck, his eyes fixed almost desperately on hers. She reached up and took his face in her hands, stroking his cheekbones and his ears.

Spock caught the scent of his own body on her hands, pulled her fingers into his mouth, sucked hard as he reached an exquisite, unbearable, endless orgasm, shouted, gasped, finally dropped his head to hers as she kissed and caressed his face and neck.

He became aware of moisture against his cheek and lifted his head to see her weeping, silently, almost motionlessly. He tasted her tears as he kissed them away, gently now, content to be her comfort as she had been his spark. Wordlessly he withdrew from her body, lying beside her and pulling a covering over them both. She pressed closer into his embrace and sighed.

She slept, and he meditated.


	5. Amanda's party

When she awoke, it was late afternoon. Her head was on a very warm male chest. She lifted her head to see Spock, watching her with a look that was almost fond.

"You're still here," she whispered.

"I have no wish to be elsewhere." He stroked her hair, sank his fingers into it, caressed her small ears. She lay her head back down and he added, "At least for another two hours. I am expected at a birthday party. I regret that I have not permission to bring a guest."

Her head came back up again, with a wicked little smile. "That's all right," she said. "Can you imagine the two of us at your mother's birthday party, trying to look respectable?" At the lift of his eyebrow, she said, "Oh, well, _you_ 'd look perfectly respectable. I'd be remembering how you look this afternoon, right now, and...things might get out of hand." She grinned at him. She felt like a girl again.

"There are unexpected advantages to being a member of a race which cultivates what humans call 'the poker face'."

"Someday I will test your poker face, Spock."

"Someday? Am I to look forward to more of these leisurely afternoons?" A shadow crossed her face and she lay her head down quickly so he couldn't see her expression. He pulled her up onto his chest and cradled her face in his hands.

"If not," he said softly, "perhaps we should make the most of what time we have."

Amanda took his gift carefully in her hands and beamed at her son.

"It's beautiful, Spock. Thank you."

She would not embrace him before their Vulcan friends, but the shine in her eyes promised him a very large hug later, during which he would assume an expression of pained tolerance, which neither of them would believe but which would satisfy both Vulcan custom and human sense of humor. For now he bowed in acknowledgment and retired to give his mother the floor.

Her friend T'Kren studied the delicate object, fascinated. "It is quite detailed. I can discern even the feathers on the raptor. May I ask the name of the artist?"

Amanda smiled as she placed her new treasure on the table. "Actually, her name is Tanafau. She has a gallery in Shi'Kahr, in the artists' quarter. I'll gladly give you the address."

"Tanafau? Is it not a rather - pretentious name?"

"She prefers to use her profession rather than her given name, as she values her privacy above all."

T'Kren nodded. "I look forward to meeting one who creates such an intriguing piece."

"Oh, you'll be meeting her soon. I've invited her to this celebration. I can only guess that she has some business to conclude, or she would have been here already."

That was all the warning Spock had. The door chime sounded, and Amanda said, "Spock, would you mind answering the door?"

"Not at all, mother."

He opened it and met the gaze of his lover. Her mouth was compressed to contain her laughter. "Surprise," she said softly.

"Please, come in," he said as if nothing were amiss, as if the woman before him had not recently been coupling wildly and repeatedly with him, as if interacting with her and his mother in the same situation were not a test of his emotional control. "She is expecting you."

Instead of moving past him into the living area, she paused and tipped her head up to speak even more softly.

"You're blushing."

He gave her an eyebrow and focused on regulating his circulation as she passed by and entered the room where Amanda was. He heard his mother say, "There you are. I've just received a gift from Spock, a work of yours, and my guests are interested in meeting you."

"I am honored."

Spock entered the room and effaced himself in a corner, watching. It was a fascinating study in cultural differences. His mother, human, a warm personality, a known quantity among Vulcans, thus viewed with tolerance, respect, and sometimes affection. The Vulcan guests, reserved and polite, physical expressions decipherable only to those who knew how to read them. And Tanafau. In appearance like a Vulcan, in demeanor more like a human, however subdued. She was not repressing her personality, but seemed to be keeping her reactions subdued; he had seen her do the same in her gallery, in order not to make her Vulcan customers uncomfortable.

Stanek, however, had no such scruples about the comfort of anyone present.

"The Rihanha," he said bluntly, staring at her. "I have heard of you."

She returned his gaze with equanimity. Spock realized she must have endured this kind of scrutiny many times. She said then, "I am known as Tanafau. Whom do I have the honor to address?"

"Stanek, son of Seret. I am a member of the Shi'Kahr city merchants council."

"Ah, then I have you to thank for my vendor permit," she said.

"You are mistaken." Stanek wasn't even trying to be polite. "I opposed your permit."

"My error," said Tanafau calmly and turned to Amanda. "I apologize for introducing the subject of business at a social gathering."

Amanda smiled and took her arm. "Come all, let's go out and watch the sunset. It's my favorite time of day." She allowed her guests to precede her, laying her hand on the Romulan's arm to detain her. "I'm sorry about Stanek," she said. "I don't want you to be uncomfortable. But I did want you to come. You are my friend, in some ways even more so than these people I've known for so long."

Tanafau smiled back at her. "I'm glad to have such a friend. And you don't have to apologize for Stanek. I've seen worse."

A shadow crossed Amanda's face. Then she brightened and said, "You and Spock must have met at the gallery, when he selected my gift. Let me introduce you formally."

The two women turned as Spock, recognizing his cue, came up to them. "We have had conversation on more than one occasion, mother. I am pleased to find that you are friends."

"Perhaps you will escort Tanafau to the veranda while I go find your father."

"Gladly." Amanda disappeared down the hall and Spock nodded for Tanafau to precede him outside. They stood side by side, not speaking, not touching, yet each feeling the other's presence like a heat source, even in the glare of Eridani's setting. T'Kren came over to speak to them.

"Your work is quite impressive," she said to Tanafau, giving Spock a nod in acknowledgment. "Have you studied? Or is your talent something more innate?"

"I haven't studied," said the artist. "This is my second profession, fashioned completely by opportunity and necessity. I was pleased to find I had talent."

"May I inquire as to your original calling?"

"I would rather not say. It was more - restrictive, in its way. I prefer my current freedom." Her chin went up in what Spock recognized, not as defiance, but pride.

"Understandable." T'Kren turned her gaze on Spock. "I see that you have found time for some leisure, or at least for personal business, while you are here."

"I made an effort to do so, in order to find a suitable gift for my mother. Ironically, it is fortunate that I have few friends on Vulcan, or I would have had difficulty making time to see them."

T'Kren studied him for a moment. Amanda was one of her oldest friends, and she had watched Spock grow up and make his way in the galaxy. She knew why his friends on Vulcan were few, and she knew Amanda was grateful that his friends offworld were many. She said simply, "It seems your friends consist mainly of those with whom you serve, then."

"Indeed."

"I trust the culture of your home world does not seem provincial in comparison."

Spock raised his eyebrow. "It does not. Although it is a very astute observation on your part."

"As one of the provincials?" she said dryly, raising her own eyebrow, then added, "I am glad you still consider this is your home, Spock. Your mother is always pleased when you return for a visit."

"As am I. If you will excuse me, I must step out for a moment."

The two women nodded and began to discuss Vulcan art forms. Spock slipped back into the house and went into his father's study, which was deserted and rapidly darkening now that the sun had set. Dropping into a chair, Spock exhaled and tried to regain focus. There was, once again, nothing unseemly in this situation; there was no reason for him to be ill at ease. She and his mother were friends; he had known that. His previous knowledge of her was known to no one but themselves, although -

Why should it not be known? He examined his reasons for not mentioning it, at least to his family. It was private. It was classified. It was long ago, in another life for her. He was not accountable to anyone for his sexual behavior; he was not a youth, not bonded, and neither was she. Why, then, did he feel reticent about mentioning their acquaintance?

He heard a soft step in the doorway and turned to see his father.

"Mother has been looking for you," Spock told Sarek. The elder Vulcan nodded and sighed.

"I know. This was the first room she investigated, thus I predict she will not search it again until she has exhausted all other possibilities." He took a chair across from his son, whose expression was studiously blank.

"You do not care to join in the festivities?"

"Apparently, neither do you," retorted Sarek.

"I am taking a moment to - focus."

"Understandable. Even though most of the guests are Vulcan, I still find these kinds of celebrations rather trying." He closed his eyes. "It is much like participating in the social duties I was required to attend as ambassador. My tolerance for so many minds and prolonged 'small talk' is not what it once was. I make a special effort for your mother, however."

"My sympathies, Father."

"And you? Why do you require focus? You are accustomed to much more socially stressful situations than this."

Spock rapidly weighed his options and then spoke. "This situation carries a significance which bears a great deal more stress than you know, Father."

"Explain." Sarek's eyes were open and as curious as a Vulcan could appear.

"Mother's friend, Tanafau. We have met before."

"At her gallery?"

"No. On _Enterprise_."

Both Sarek's eyebrows flew upward and he sat up straighter. "How long ago was this?"

"Several years. I cannot tell you of the circumstances. How much do you know of her origins?"

"Only that she is Romulan, captured by Federation forces and later released into exile. I did not know yours was the ship - " He broke off. "Was it you personally?"

"In a manner of speaking. I was in the process of being beamed back to _Enterprise_ when she - intercepted me physically and was beamed aboard as well."

For a moment, he almost felt pride in having rendered his father speechless. Then Sarek asked, "Did you know she had settled here on Vulcan?"

"No, not until I entered her gallery and she spoke to me. She told me how she met Mother, and of their correspondence."

"Yes. She has been a good friend. Your mother enjoys spending time with someone whose emotions are more accessible than most of our acquaintance."

"Naturally." Spock felt slightly more in balance having confided these few facts to Sarek. He rose and Sarek said, almost hastily, "Please, do not allow Amanda to see you leaving this room. She might decide to perform another 'sweep'."

Spock nodded, highly amused, and slipped out the door.


	6. H'levreinnye

Later, after all the guests had gone except Tanafau, she and Spock walked in the garden. Amanda sat with Sarek on the veranda and sighed.

"Thank you, _k'diwa_ , for enduring yet another of my parties," she said to her husband and was rewarded with an expression of surprise. "Oh, I know. You make an appearance and then go hide in your study. I don't blame you, and I appreciate your willingness to appear at all."

"My wife, I am pleased to honor you in any way I can." He let her see mischief in his eyes and added, "But only once a year, I beg."

She laughed. "I'm so glad Spock was able to join us this year. And he seems to have made a new friend," nodding at the two figures dimly visible in the twilit garden.

"A friend, certainly," said Sarek. "But not a new one."

Amanda looked at him, clearly surprised.

"He has not told you?"

"Told me what?"

"That we were previously acquainted," came the voice of her son. He and Tanafau had climbed to the veranda and came over to join the other two as they sat.

"You know each other?" Amanda exclaimed, looking from Spock to the Romulan, who seemed unusually subdued.

 _Intimately_ , thought Spock, but said aloud, "We had met before during the course of my first mission on _Enterprise_."

This time he had rendered his mother speechless as well, although she seemed pleasantly surprised. Finally she said, "Why didn't you say so before?"

"This is the first opportunity I have had to mention it privately."

"He saw me at the gallery," explained Tanafau. "He didn't know you and I knew each other. I was looking forward to surprising him, and you, when I showed up here today." She grinned; strictly speaking it was all true. Amanda's smile broke out like the sun.

"You devious creature. Well, did you get the reaction you were looking for?"

"I believe so," her friend said, looking at her son. His countenance was even more inscrutable than usual.

After another glass of wine and some desultory conversation, Sarek said, "It is late, _k'diwa_. We should retire."

"Of course." She embraced Tanafau. "Thank you so much for coming, and for creating my gift. You and Spock have both surprised me today." She turned to Spock. "Would you please see my friend safely home, Spock?"

"I will. Good night, Mother." He bent to kiss her cheek and she followed Sarek into the house. Just inside the door she looked back to see her son, his hand and Tanafau's intertwined, as they turned, not toward the front gate, but toward the guesthouse. She smiled to herself.

"You're disobeying your mother, Spock," Tanafau teased him as they approached the guesthouse.

"She asked me to see you safely home. She did not specify any limit as to the time it should take."

She laughed. "Very well then, how long do you intend to take?"

He opened the door and allowed her to enter first as the lights went on.

"As long as you can endure me," he told her.

"You've hardly begun to test _my_ endurance." Her eyes raked over his body as if his clothes were not there. "You have a long way to go before you can make me surrender or beg."

Spock was no fool. She was taunting him to make a preemptive strike. He would not do it. _We will see about your endurance, Commander_ , he thought and turned toward the bedroom. After a minute or two, he heard her feet padding after him on the soft carpet. She stood, arms folded, in the bedroom doorway as he removed his clothes, folding and putting away his uniform and boots, washing his face and hands, ignoring her completely. Finally she said with a tinge of sarcasm, "Weren't you supposed to see me home?"

"If you feel you need an escort, I will be quite willing to assist you in the morning. I find the festivities have been fatiguing." He pulled the sheet back on the bed and sat on it, his legs sprawled before him, naked and completely unselfconscious. "I believe you previously expressed confidence in your ability to defend yourself."

"I see." She turned away. "I'll just walk myself home, then, Mr. Spock." She had always enjoyed calling a bluff, she thought, and headed for the front door.

"Tanafau."

She paused with her hand near the door sensor. "Yes?"

"Please turn out the front light before you go."

His careless tone irked her. She turned off the light - and moved stealthily back toward the bedroom, staying in the shadows. Pausing outside the bedroom, she listened hard. No sound. Not even his breathing...

Long arms came from behind her, a hand covering her mouth, slipping around her waist and lifting her as she struggled. She pried his hand off her mouth and half-growled, half-laughed, "Fairly caught, _h'levreinnye_ (lust devil). Now put me down."

"No."

"Put me down or I'll - "

"You will not. I have caught you and I will keep you." He deposited her on the bed, and in the darkness she felt his hands pulling her clothes off, so quickly, no time for her to protest. Even if she had wanted to do so. Yet she couldn't just roll over and submit to him. It was not her way. She leaped up at him, but before she knew it he had seized her arm as it came up to strike; she tried to slap him with her other hand, was blocked, and his blood flared as he grappled with her, holding her arms.

"I am not," she hissed, "a tame falcon that will come to your hand. If you would have me, you must conquer me over and over again. And even then - you might not be sure."

"I will conquer you, Rihanha," he growled back at her. "And I will be sure of you.." Once more he was more aroused than he could ever recall; somehow with her he was able to let his control diminish almost completely and allow his desires and emotions to come to the fore.

She tried to hook her leg around his, to drop him, but he held her wrists with one hand and wrapped his other arm around her hips, lifting her and pinning her against him. "Take me," she rasped against his face. "Take me. Now, damn you, now!"

She was not begging. She was giving him an order. He took her.

It was somehow exhilarating, taking his pleasure while simultaneously having to guard against her trickery. He refused to bind her, so he was constantly fending off her hands, her legs, at one point her teeth. He began by taking her against the wall, entering her without any preparation and thrusting quickly to his own climax. Then he pulled out of her and flung her down on the bed; she rose up to fight him and he grabbed her around the middle, keeping his head low and his genitals out of reach of her flailing feet. He didn't think she would deliberately harm him in that way, but accidents could happen...

Bearing her back onto the bed, he pinned her arms above her head, trapping her legs between his and bending to stroke her body with his mouth, her ears, breasts, lips. Between hot kisses she jerked against her restraints. He lifted his head and, looking into her eyes, pushed her legs apart with his knee and once again entered her abruptly. She gasped and shoved her hips up against him. This time he moved more slowly, not to pleasure her but to torment her, keeping her from angling her body in such a way as to bring her own climax. He took his time, satisfied his still-aching hunger, filled her again with his seed, withdrew, wrapping his arms and legs around her as she shook with unsated desire.

Spock lay on top of her for some time, feeling her body relax despite her frustration, indulging himself in oral exploration of her neck and shoulders, returning the kisses she offered, but consciously calming his body and still watching for ambush. He was not finished with her yet.

"Spock. Don't deny me. You have taken your prize; let me enjoy you completely now."

He allowed one of her arms to escape and she stroked his hair and his eartips, murmuring in Vulcan and Romulan, her hips squirming beneath his, inviting. He gauged his level of preparation and acted on it, releasing her quickly, only to swing her up as he rolled on his back and brought her down on yet another throbbing erection. She gasped and once again tried to shift herself, to rub her aching sex just right, but his iron grip on her hips controlled her motions. He sacrificed some flesh to her hands and teeth as she went after his torso; he would have welts later, but it was a small price to pay, and at least he managed to snap at her hands whenever she tried to position them for a nerve pinch.

She growled at him as he came again, groaning and pulsing inside her, and he knew he was nearly at his limit. He pulled her wrists to him and she fell on his chest, glaring. He wrapped his legs around hers as a precaution.

"I had not thought you to be so cruel," she panted.

"There is an Earth saying: One must be cruel, to be kind."

With that he lifted her one last time, sliding out from under her and holding her down on the bed, on her belly, surrounding her with his limbs, still holding her hands. He rubbed his hardness against her firm buttocks and she let out a sound that was almost a wail.

"Please, Spock."

"Soon," he whispered in her ear as he lifted her hips slightly with one hand. She was slick with her own arousal and his ejaculate, and he pushed inside, slowly this time, almost gently; he guessed they'd both be sore later. He pulled her up onto her knees so she could not grind her sex against the bed, and this time his orgasm was not enormous, but full and satisfying. He released her completely and fell back on the bed, gasping. She rolled over and her hands drifted down between her legs, seeking to satisfy herself.

"Wait," he breathed, but she was already stroking, thrusting, fingering herself. Spock reached for her hand and she slapped his, hard, with the other. He took a deep breath and raised his two fingers to touch her lips, gently, as he had long ago. Her movements slowed, stilled. Her eyes closed, and he concentrated, letting his emotions flow into her as his body had flowed before. She brought her hand up in turn to touch his lips and he was amazed to find she was pushing her emotions through to him as well.

He opened his mind further and allowed their connection to move freely, images and feelings circling like the tide. Not thoughts; this was not a true mind meld. He bowed his head to kiss her, his lips joining his fingers softly. She gasped and cried out and he felt her shudder and thrust as he brought his hand down to press against her sex, helping her reach the climax she had been desperate for.

He slowly withdrew from their mental link as she relaxed completely and turned on her side, pulling him into her arms and burying her face in his neck. She had never felt anything like this; she had always had to fight for what was hers, and in matters of sex she had thought it was the only way to get what she needed.

He had never felt anything like it either, but then, she was unique in more ways than one.


	7. Amanda

The next morning Spock found Amanda in the dining area; it was already too hot for her on the veranda.

"Good morning, Mother," he said sedately and sat across from her with his breakfast.

"Good morning, Spock," she said just as sedately. "Did you have a good night?"

He eyed her for a moment and decided to stick to the facts. "Yes, I did. And yourself?"

"I slept very well. Despite your father's attitude toward my parties, I'm always exhausted as well at the end of them." She sipped her tea and asked, "I hear that Tanafau arrived home safely. She sent me a message this morning thanking me for the invitation."

"She is a gracious person," he replied, still stating the obvious. He glanced up at his mother, who gazed innocently back at him.

"Yes, she is. Perhaps the two of you will be able to renew your prior acquaintance. She has so few friends, even here."

"As do I," he said, merely stating a fact. His mother nodded.

"Yes. And she lived so long offworld, I'm sure being confined to one planet can be - stifling."

"How much do you know about Tanafau, Mother?"

"I know that she was once a person of importance to the Romulan Empire."

She dropped this bombshell into the conversation and waited for his reaction. She was not disappointed. Spock's expression was as close to open astonishment as she had seen in years.

"How do you come to that conclusion?" he said, struggling to control his countenance and his heart.

"Spock, I've been an ambassador's wife for fifty years now. I have met so many people of so many species. And I know the look, the bearing, the reactions of those who have commanded. She has a dignity, a pride about her which is not solely the result of her having to survive among strangers. She had been master of her own fate, and that of others, for a long time before I met her." She stood and paced to the window in unconscious imitation of her spouse. Spock stood as well and moved to her side.

"I don't just rely on my intuition, Spock. Your father was unable to find out anything about her through his official channels. That in itself is evidence that her past must remain a secret. I understand now why you couldn't tell me you'd met before."

"I was uncertain how much information I should share," he admitted. "I cannot tell you anything further at this time, not without the clearance of Starfleet Command, or without her permission."

Tanafau was no longer an idealistic girl dreaming of marriage and babies. Come to think of it, she never had been such a girl, she mused as she worked that morning in her studio behind the gallery. She had always been determined to explore, and the way to exploration in the Romulan Empire was through the military. It had been a swift and precipitous climb for her to the rank of Commander. Until the Federation intervened.

She had never speculated on what her life would have been like had Kirk and Spock's mission failed, or never occurred. Her grandmother had always said, "Don't look back. You're not going in that direction."

A light footstep fell on the threshold and she looked up to see Amanda Grayson in the doorway. "Am I interrupting the muse?" Amanda asked. Tanafau smiled; Amanda had explained to her about Earth's classical Muses, and she in turn had told Amanda of the Romulan artistic traditions. She waved her friend in. "Come, sit. That was an interesting party you gave, Amanda."

Amanda sat in an old overstuffed chair and laughed. "Interesting is the word. I wouldn't have invited Stanek, except that Sarek would never have heard the end of it. And tell me - " She leaned forward. "What is it about you that made Spock _blush_? He hasn't done that in years. Not around me, anyway."

Tanafau looked up from her work. "Was he blushing? I thought Vulcans didn't do that."

"I'm his mother. I notice these things."

"It's hard for me to think of you as his mother. I feel as though you're my contemporary rather than my - "

"Don't say it. I'm not anyone's 'elder'." Amanda watched as her friend carved clay away from the edge of a lump. They sat in companionable silence for some time. Then the Romulan asked casually, "And your family? Have they recovered from your human festivities?"

"Perhaps I should ask you that," said Amanda slyly. "I believe you have seen more of Spock this week than I."

Tanafau's expression was guarded. "I don't mean to deprive you of his company, Amanda. We have - not spoken in a long time. I never thought we would meet again." Meeting Amanda's eye, she added, "I'm not concealing anything purposely. When you spoke of your son, I didn't think our brief encounter was worth mentioning."

"So you had an encounter?" Amanda watched in astonishment as the younger woman's complexion changed. Now it was Tanafau who was blushing. Amanda said, "My dear, I don't mean to make you uncomfortable. I just have a typical human curiosity about you. Please don't feel obliged to tell me anything more."

"Thank you, Amanda." She turned her attention back to her work. After another few minutes of silence, she spoke again.

"Spock and I met before my - exile. He was serving on the _Enterprise_ , and it was there that I was first detained by the Federation." She stopped carving and looked straight at Amanda. "Detained, not rescued, as you may have heard. I boarded _Enterprise_ of my own free will."

"I have never believed the story that you were rescued. I've never met anyone more capable of rescuing herself if necessary."

A faint smile from her companion, who went on, "I was not invited; I attached myself to the Federation boarding party in order to prevent them from carrying out their mission. I failed in the attempt. My people erased me from their history. And here I am." She began carving again, almost savagely. This was more than she had ever told anyone, even Amanda.

"Here you are," echoed that lady softly. "I am glad. Tanafau - " She rose and lay her hand on her friend's shoulder; Tanafau looked up at her. "If there is ever anything I can do for you, not out of charity but out of friendship - I hope you'll call on me. On my family. You're one of us, now. You're not alone."

The Romulan rose as well and embraced her. "Thank you," she whispered. _One of us_ , she thought.


	8. Connection

"Your mother was here yesterday."

Spock paused in the doorway of the gallery. Tanafau was standing across the room, examining a piece she had just placed in a display. She did not turn around as she continued to speak. "She wanted to hear about how we met. I wonder whether I told her anything she did not know."

He came further into the room, trying to gauge her state of mind. "May I ask why it is important?"

"What did you tell her?"

Suppressing his mild annoyance at her answering his question with a question, he replied, "You were there at the time of the only statement I made to my mother regarding our previous encounter. I believe all I mentioned was that we met aboard the _Enterprise_." He came to stand just behind her and added, "I did not feel it was appropriate for me to say anything further without your consent."

She turned to look up at him and once again he felt as though he were being examined, critically this time. Finally she said, "She knows, or has guessed, something more about me. I wondered how she might have guessed - whatever it is. Forgive me - I should have known you wouldn't reveal anything personal."

"It is understandable. Mothers do have a way of extracting information against the most improbable odds." That made her smile.

"At the risk of sounding like a pest, where were you yesterday, _s'haile_ (honored one)?"

"I spent the day in meditation, and in conversation with family."

"I shouldn't begrudge you time with them. I can visit Amanda any time, but your time is limited." She turned her eyes back to the piece she had just placed. "You and I have lives. We will have to return to them, after tomorrow."

He could not see her expression; when he moved to face her she abruptly went to stand with her back to the shop window, the light from behind her turning her into a featureless silhouette. "Yes, I think that's a good spot for that piece," she declared. "I had to find something to replace the crystal birds. What do you think?"

He came over to stand before her, close enough to discern her expression, close enough that she had to tilt her head to meet his eye. Which, of course, she did.

"I think - " he began. Then the door chime sounded and someone entered the shop. She turned her back to Spock, presenting her professional demeanor to the newcomer, and engaged in conversation with him. When she had concluded her transaction she looked around the room. Spock was gone.

 _So be it_ , she thought, and set her jaw in her usual defiant expression.

When she arrived home there was a message from him. After a moment of hesitation she deleted it. She had to shut the last few days up in her memory, keep them out of her thoughts for a few months, years, not try to keep reliving them as if she could bring them back. Bring him back. She was a fool. What had happened to her resolve, to the backbone that had kept her from despair and maudlin self-pity? She had indulged herself physically; she would not do so emotionally. She had to rebuild the fortress behind which she had hidden her true self, all this time, until he had touched her mind and breached her defenses.

She picked up a reader from the shelf, sat, scanned through the newer downloads, a series of published proceedings from the current conference. Interesting that the Vulcans assumed the Romulan cloaking device would have been by now obsolete; the technology had not been improved upon to any degree, although the Romulans had apparently developed a device to counter it. Escalation, she thought ironically; one side creates a weapon, the other circumvents it, the first either abandons the weapon or circumvents the circumvention. She leaned her head back on her chair and thought, _that is part of command I do not miss_. Apart from defending her people, power had not been her motivation.

Despite what she had said to Spock, despite her conviction that those had been the best years of her life, she did not regret her service. She had killed only when necessary; she had been ruthless only as far as necessary to maintain order and discipline. She had been a soldier; now she was an artist, and a woman. And Spock was only a man, a moment from her past, and the last few days were only an echo of that past. She was not about to fall in love with an echo, however passionate, or give her heart to a man whose calling would take him from her side. She shook her head. Why was she allowing him to even cross her mind?

She got up, impatient with herself, and began to prepare her evening meal. The door chime sounded and she ignored it. She sat and ate her meal. The chime sounded again and she still ignored it. Then a voice from the other side of the door.

"Commander."

She ground her teeth. What could he want now?

"Commander, please let me in."

 _Stop calling me that_ , she thought to herself, wishing he could hear her thoughts.

A pause. Then, _Very well, Tanafau, but please let me in_. It was not a voice - it was a mind. His mind. She flung the door open, staring at him, and he stepped inside quickly in case she changed her mind. It had taken great effort on his part to send her his thought without touching her, and he felt light-headed as she closed the door and continued to stare.

"Get out of my mind," she said at last, but without conviction.

"I assure you, I am not in your mind," he told her. "I put forth an effort to communicate with you when other methods had failed. Normally this takes great concentration or physical contact, but I felt the occasion justified it."

"Very well. What do you wish to communicate, Commander Spock?" She folded her arms.

"May we sit down?" he asked. "This may take some time."

"I believe the humans have a saying: Brevity is the soul of wit," she retorted, but led him into her living space and they sat.

"I would like to explain something that has occurred between us, and your response may require some thought on your part. I request your patience while I try to make myself clear."

"Continue."

She spoke as if to a less than competent subaltern, yet he admired her all the more for her confidence.

"As I mentioned earlier, I have spent the greater part of the last twenty-four hours in contemplation of something I – we - experienced two days ago."

She said nothing, but her heart quickened.

"I believe you sensed a connection to me after our most recent encounter, an emotional connection."

"Yes," she said, trying to sound indifferent. "What of it?"

"This connection is not typical of Vulcan lovers. Indeed, it generally occurs in its initial stages only after two have been betrothed, and then only when guided by an elder." It cost him to say this, but he went on, "I have experienced such a rudimentary link once, when I was bonded to a mate at the age of seven years. When she broke the bond to join with another, I lost that connection and have never felt it since."

"I see. And you believe that this connection between us is significant? Not just a by-product of physical gratification?"

"I have experienced physical gratification several times over the past years, without a hint of anything like a mental or emotional link." He rose to pace. "I have concluded that my observations bear out the conclusion I have made logically. My observations, my emotions - and yours."

"What do you know of my emotions?" She felt her temper stirring again. What was it about him that always seemed to provoke her?

Spock paused to look down at her, his hands as usual clasped behind him. "I know what I felt when we touched," he said softly. "Afterward. Your emotions flowed into me, and mine to you. You know this, you must have felt it."

She had felt something - something she had thought mere sexual afterglow. She thought she had convinced herself to read too much into it, and today she had begun to convince herself otherwise.

"Again, what of it?"

His hands gripped her shoulders, lifting her to stand facing him, his expression almost fierce.

"I said, on _Enterprise_ , that I hoped we shared something more permanent. Do you not share this hope? Can you deny that we have experienced something more than a fleeting sexual encounter?"

"I can't deny it," she said passionately. "But what is the use of admitting it? What do you expect me to do with the information? I told you, I can only go forward. After tomorrow, this, _this_ – " she grabbed his hands in hers – "will be the past. Why do you come here now? Leave me alone. Alone!"

The last word was a shout. She dropped his hands and stepped back. For a moment he was reminded of the look in her eyes, on her ship, when she found that he had been distracting her in order to gain Kirk time to steal the cloaking device. She had snapped into command mode in spite of the fact that they had been moments from a passionate embrace. She had gone back into command mode; he was about to be dismissed.

Spock stepped forward and raised his hand as if to touch her, knowing what to expect, and was not disappointed. She swung her arm to push him away and he caught her hand as if to wrestle her, but instead held still, his eyes fixed on hers.

Through his arm he could _feel_ her. Her emotions were even more powerful than they had been two nights ago, angry, confused, proud. He let his own emotions connect with hers, his own pride, desire, frustration over being unable to reach her. He knew she felt them when her eyes widened and she breathed in sharply.

"And what do I – we – do with this, now?" she whispered. Her hand had relaxed and he took it in both of his. Their connection had faded. But it had been real.

"I do not know. May we agree not to allow it to become part of our past – just yet?"

"Very romantic," she whispered, "for a Vulcan," but he saw, for only the second time, tears in her eyes.


	9. Enterprise

The next morning, they parted ways at the crossroads to her gallery. Spock said nothing but lay two fingers on her cheek; she turned her head to kiss them, turned and walked on. They had not made love, not even talked very much, only held each other as they slept.

He took his leave of his family later that day, saluting his father, kissing his mother, stepping up on the transport pad, seeing something like compassion on his mother's face just before it faded from view.

It was not her face that would haunt him.

Three days later, Spock received a personal transmission. Lt. Uhura said, "It's encoded, Mr. Spock; do you want to receive it here or in your quarters?"

"You may route it to my quarters, Lieutenant. Thank you." He went on working at his station. After a while, not unexpectedly, the captain meandered by while pacing around the bridge.

"Personal message, Spock? Mind if I ask, from whom?"

"I do not mind, Captain."

A beat. Then, "Very funny, Spock."

"I did not intend to say anything humorous, sir."

"Of course not. I was just passing time, Commander. Carry on."

He carried on, and eventually left the bridge for the lab. The lift doors had no sooner swished shut than Kirk swung around and said with exaggerated casualness, "So Lieutenant, who was the message from?"

"What message, Captain?"

"The one for Mr. Spock."

"Sir, I can't tell you that without regard to protocol."

"Uhura, it's dull as dirt right now and it won't kill anybody if I know who the transmission is from. Come on, spill."

Uhura got up from her seat and came down a step into the command pit, leaning over, knowing that even a hint of cleavage would derail him. "Can you keep a secret, sir?" she breathed. He grinned and nodded.

She said, "So can I," and returned to her station.

Later, she encountered Spock in the officers' lounge. "You owe me one, Commander," she said as she sat across from him.

"How so, Lieutenant?"

"After you left the bridge, the captain tried to find out who sent your encoded message. I valiantly defended your privacy and told him nothing."

"In that case, I am indeed in your debt."

"I don't suppose you'd tell _me_ who it was from. Or what it was about."

"As you were certainly able to discern, the transmission came from Vulcan."

"And?"

"If my mother chooses to contact me only three days after my departure, I can only ascribe it to maternal overprotectiveness."

"That's not an answer." She smiled. "And surely you're too old for that sort of thing."

"According to my mother, one is never too old."

"That's not an answer either."

"Indeed," he said and would say no more.

He entered his quarters at the end of his shift, sat at his desk, brought up the encrypted file. Studying the file for a moment, he typed in a code and an image appeared. Tanafau.

"Hello, my Vulcan. I send greetings and hope you're well. Formal words in place of those I can't say in this venue; I wanted to begin our correspondence right away. I want to be sure I don't become just another memory to you, nor you to me.

"I have no news, no clever conversation to amuse you. Just know that I'm thinking of you." Her wicked smile. "Goodbye, _h'levreinnye."_

Spock listened to the brief message twice, then erased it. He sat at his desk for a long time, then pressed a key and began to compose a reply.

"Spock, is everything all right with your family?"

The first officer raised an eyebrow at his captain over the chess board.

"Captain, if you are attempting to distract me – " He moved to capture his opponent's queen.

"If I were, I would know by now that it was an exercise in futility." Kirk grimaced. "So what's going on back on Vulcan?"

"Why do you ask, Captain?"

"I notice in the comm logs that you've been receiving and sending messages more frequently than usual. Is everyone well?"

"Yes, they are. Thank you for asking." He moved out a pawn. "There are some travel arrangements I am facilitating for my mother. They require some careful negotiations with the authorities."

"The authorities? What's she up to now?"

Another eyebrow. "She is 'up to' a cultural exchange between Vulcan and the Markkotians, who as you know are quite xenophobic. They have consented to a series of meetings with my father on their own world. Sarek suggested that he and my mother be transported to Markkot on a Starfleet vessel, in order to satisfy the Markkotians' own sense of self-importance. It is a harmless gesture, one which has proved useful for soothing egos in the past."

He stopped there, knowing that it took very little to stir Kirk's curiosity – and his willingness to bend rules.

"I don't see any reason why _Enterprise_ shouldn't be that ship, do you, Mr. Spock?"

They diverted from their usual patrol to meet his parents at Starbase VI. Kirk and Spock, in dress uniforms, waited as three humanoid forms materialized in the transporter.

"I have a companion, Captain, to assist me and keep me company while Sarek is in his interminable meetings," Amanda had told him with her most charming smile. "I hope that won't be too inconvenient."

"Not at all," he had said; what was one more guest on a ship this size, anyway?

He greeted Sarek with the Vulcan salute, as did Spock. He took Amanda's hand and bowed over it. He saw the slight form that followed Amanda and nodded, knowing that if she were Vulcan she would not accept a handshake. "This is your companion?"

"Yes, Captain. This is my friend, Tanafau, an artist who has brought her work to share with the Markkotians on Vulcan's behalf."

"I'm pleased to see you, Captain." The younger woman nodded back at Kirk and his mind stalled for a moment as he recognized her.

"Tanafau, did you say?" She nodded again. Was that a glint in her eye? At a loss, Kirk turned to Spock, who seemed stymied as well.

Kirk rallied with his usual skill and, meeting her eye again, said, "Madam, this situation is unprecedented. I'm not sure what form of address to use."

"'Madam' will do." She had not changed; she was not only still beautiful, but still indomitable. A few years as a "guest of the Federation" had not cowed her in any way.

"Captain, perhaps the Ambassador and his party would like to spend some time 'settling in' before joining us for dinner." Spock could tell that Kirk wanted some time to settle a few things with him.

"Of course. Spock, will you please report to my office after you have shown the Ambassador to his."


	10. Spock and Kirk

The captain didn't fume very often, but when he did, his crew cleared the decks. No one knew what had set him off; they only knew he was barreling through the corridors toward his office on the bridge, jaw clenched, fists clenched, stare set to stun. By the time he reached the bridge word had gotten out and no one so much as glanced his way as he burned a trail to his office. He wished there were a door he could slam.

 _Review, Jim. She came aboard with the boarding party. With Spock._ Attached _to him, in fact. Has Spock been in touch with her all this time? Has Sarek? And for what possible reason?_

Across his mind there flashed a wild stab at a reason. Beyond his disclosure as to the Romulans' intentions (as far as he had known them), Spock had kept the details of his encounter to himself, saying privately to Jim that she was "remarkable, both as a woman and as a commander". Jim had smirked inwardly, but despite the implication, he hadn't really believed his first officer able to attract, let alone seduce, such a woman.

Now he wasn't so sure.

Filing that idea for future consideration, he considered other possibilities. He didn't know what had happened to her after they had turned her over to Federation authorities. He had told her she would be a "guest" and had treated her as such, albeit warily, for the few days she had been on the Enterprise. And as far as he knew, she had not contacted anyone during that time, including Spock. As far as he knew.

Why did his thoughts keep coming back to Spock?

Spock, meanwhile, was rapidly sorting through his thoughts on Tanafau, his captain, his mother, and his duty, not necessarily in that order. The crew didn't have to clear the decks for him, as he proceeded with his usual brisk efficiency and without external signs of his turmoil.

He knew that Jim would suspect him, if not of subterfuge, then at least of evasion. Spock had not thought it necessary to describe the details of his interlude with the commander at the time, telling himself it was no one's business how he extracted the information they needed. He knew his captain's mind, however; he knew to his chagrin that Kirk believed him to be immune to feminine charms and incapable of demonstrating those typical of the male. If it had not been such a serious matter, Spock would have relished revealing the depth of his relationship with Tanafau and observing Kirk's dumbfounded expression. Even friends could enjoy humor at each other's expense; this he had learned over his years among humans.

However, the difficulties at hand seemed to be, first, to assure the captain that Tanafau's appearance (and in such company) had been a complete surprise to him as well; second, to communicate that as far as he knew her motives were transparently altruistic and she really was there to accompany Amanda; and third, to discourage any hypothesis that he and Tanafau were –

What _were_ they?

He added that to his list of difficulties.

Kirk turned on him as soon as the door closed behind him.

"Spock, what the hell? Why didn't you tell me _she_ was coming on board?"

"Protocol does not require all members of a diplomat's party to be named before allowing them passage," said Spock, even more stiffly than usual.

"Protocol be damned. You might have considered my position, allowing a Romulan, not only a Romulan, but one who was once an enemy officer, on this ship. _My_ ship." He snapped, "You might have considered my position as your friend."

"Whether you believe me or not, sir, I assure you I knew nothing of her presence as part of Sarek's entourage."

That stopped Kirk in his tracks. He stared. "Then whose idea was this? It can't be a coincidence."

"My mother's," said Spock, almost ruefully, and Kirk thought, _Damn_. Interrogating Amanda Grayson was a prospect even more daunting than this conversation.

"She has just told me that she felt that the less you knew, the less responsibility you would bear in the event of any unfortunate action on the part of the Federation."

"Ignorance is bliss? What kind of 'unfortunate action' should I expect?"

"It is difficult to anticipate the consequences should Federation authorities discover the identity of my mother's companion, since technically she is not breaking any law of which I am aware."

During this speech Kirk stood with his arms folded, staring at Spock. At the end of it he sighed. "Of which you are aware?"

"She is not a Federation citizen; she is not a Romulan citizen. She has no status, even on Vulcan. However, her former situation under Federation detention may still make her a person of interest."

"I see." _Of interest to whom?_ thought Kirk, and he went on, "You seem to know a lot about this companion."

"We encountered each other during my last visit to Vulcan. Ironically, she has become one of my mother's closest friends." Spock gave him a level look. "Nevertheless, I must reiterate that I knew nothing of her - "

"I believe you, Spock." Kirk resumed pacing. "That said, I have to ask, how long have you known about her friendship with Amanda?"

"Only a few weeks. My mother knew nothing of our – previous interaction. Tanafau has been exceptionally discreet on the matter."

"So have you, apparently. Spock – is there something you need to tell me, confidentially, about the time you spent on the Romulan ship?"

"Why do you ask, Captain?"

Taken aback – Spock, stalling? – Kirk said, "It just seems like too much of a coincidence, that she should connect with your family after all this time. With you."

"Yet stranger things have happened, and in our experience, Jim."

Kirk halted directly in front of his friend. "When you returned from the Romulan ship, after all the excitement died down, you filed a very terse report on your conversation with the commander."

"As you know, I am not one for effusiveness. Particularly in official records. Officially, the pertinent information was properly recorded."

"What about the unofficial information, Spock?"

"Are you giving me a direct order, Captain?"

Kirk knew then that questioning the Vulcan further would meet with a stone wall. He took a deep breath. "All right then, can you assure me that your duties at this time are not in conflict with any personal relationships on the part of your family?"

"I believe I can."

"Very well. Dinner will be in the officers' dining room at 1900. Dismissed."


	11. Low profile

Dinner included, not only the Ambassador and his party, Spock and Kirk, but also McCoy, Mr. Scott, and Lt. Uhura. Spock was not sure why the comm officer was there, although as his friend she was certainly a welcome addition. The conversation was desultory. Afterward they adjourned to the observation deck, where Tanafau moved casually to talk to Spock and Uhura.

"Tanafau," said Spock politely. "Lt. Uhura and I were discussing my recent visit to Vulcan. She is interested in Vulcan art forms, about which I am sure you are more suited to speak."

Tanafau smiled. "Possibly. I'm mainly observing on this trip, to see how Vulcan culture is perceived by species newly exposed to it."

"Does that have an influence on the art you create?"

"It does. Art is a form of communication, and learning to communicate requires adaptation."

The two women launched into a discussion of function and aesthetics. Spock listened with only half his attention and eventually became aware that McCoy was trying to catch his eye. He excused himself and went to speak to the doctor.

"Spock, Jim gave me a heads-up about your parents' friend. I can hardly believe it. I agree with him that she should keep a low profile, but don't you think a smile along with the pointed ears doesn't exactly give the impression that she's a Vulcan?"

"Tanafau is not attempting to pass for a Vulcan, Doctor. She is simply not volunteering the facts of her racial origins. She is not entirely comfortable with the subterfuge, but she accepts the wisdom of it. What exactly do you suggest?"

"If she keeps looking this expressive, somebody's gonna ask."

"As you are fond of saying, Dr. McCoy, we will cross that bridge when we come to it."

They came to it only moments later. He and the doctor had joined Uhura and Tanafau's conversation just in time to hear Uhura say, "I hope I don't offend you by mentioning it, but you seem more – comfortable expressing your emotions than the Vulcans I've met."

"I'm not offended. Amanda has often noticed the same thing." The visitor smiled. "Some day I'll tell you more about my background, and it'll make more sense. Mr. Spock, if you don't mind, I think I'd like to leave the Ambassador and Amanda to their socializing. Will you make my excuses?"

"Allow me to escort you back to your quarters."

"Thank you. It's been a pleasure, Lieutenant, Doctor."

They strolled along the corridors, Spock's hands behind his back as usual, Tanafau with her usual confident gait. "It's good to see you again," she said softly in Vulcan.

"I am pleased as well," he answered in kind. "There are many questions I would like to pose, however."

"Pose away, Spock." They entered a turbolift, Spock nodding acknowledgment to the ensign already inside. As they descended, Spock switched to Standard out of courtesy. "The journey to Markkot will take several days. I trust you and my parents will find sufficient ways to pass the time."

"I don't believe it will be a problem, Commander." The ensign exited the lift; the doors closed it continued on its way. She grinned at Spock, who contented himself with an eyebrow. They reached her door without further incident and went inside, and she turned to face him, her own hands clasped behind her.

"I admire your self-control," he said softly and she pretended surprise.

"Self-control? What do you mean, Commander?" An undercurrent of mirth.

 _Very well_ , he thought, _she wishes to fence_. He moved closer to her; she stood her ground. Holding her gaze, he brought two of his fingers up, using the back of them to stroke her cheekbone, lightly. She drew a deep breath and said, "Foul play, Commander."

"Humans have a saying: All is fair in love and war." Spock bowed his head and between light, slow kisses said, "My own ability to control my physical and emotional urges has been compromised since you and I have become – involved."

"Is that a problem, Spock?" she breathed against his ear.

"I have found that increased meditation and physical activity mitigate my occasional lapse of control. Somewhat."

"There is no need for control at the moment, is there?" Her tongue flicked the tip of the ear.

"Unfortunately, there is such a need." Reluctantly he left off kissing her and put her away at arm's length. "What is the purpose of your appearance on _Enterprise_?"

He saw a moment of shock in her eyes, then they hardened. "My purpose? I'm here to accompany Amanda and Sarek to Markkot. Surprising you was a bonus - we didn't expect your captain to go out of his way to carry us there. If you're not pleased, then so be it, but I still have business to attend to." She turned her back on him.

"Whether I am pleased is not an issue."

"What is the issue, Spock?"

She had asked for it. "The issue is whether your presence on a Federation vessel will stir the interest of the authorities, and if so, whether you will suffer any consequences therefrom."

Tanafau turned to stare at him. "Consequences. Are you sure you aren't talking about consequences to yourself? Your captain?" She didn't wait for him to answer, but went on, "He thinks I'm here for some ulterior motive, doesn't he? He doesn't trust me. I don't blame him. But you, Spock, _you_ don't think my coming on board had anything to do with sabotaging the ship, the Federation? Revenge?"

"I do not. However, what I believe is irrelevant." Spock kept his tone neutral. "I do find it difficult to believe that you did not foresee the possibility that the Federation might move again to detain you as a result of your actions."

"I foresaw it all right. Let them do what they will to me, and they can hardly blame you or Kirk or Amanda. I'm tired of hiding. You're not ashamed of me, are you, Spock?"

Her sudden change of subject surprised but did not dismay him; he was becoming accustomed to her mercurial ways. "On the contrary. I did say that you are brave and beautiful."

She seemed to relax then, touching his cheek with her palm. "So are you, my Vulcan."


	12. Music soothes the savage breast

Uhura had noticed something different about Spock since his parents came on board. She wasn't sure what; her long acquaintance with various crewmembers gave her a sixth sense for changes in their demeanor. And something had changed in Spock.

He went about his duties in the usual focused manner; he was seen in the mess hall at his usual intervals; he spent time in the exercise facilities. He played chess with the captain, and with his father (that was a treat to watch). He conducted his mother and her companion around the ship with the deference appropriate to an affectionate son. So what was pinging her sensor grid about him?

One evening Uhura was in the officers' lounge with Sulu and some other buddies when Spock was tuning and playing his lyre. She and Rand had a game of Snap, fairly noisy of course, then taught some of the guys how to play Crazy Eights, of all things. They were arguing over creating a binary version of the game when she wandered over to the corner where the first officer sat with his instrument.

"Lieutenant."

"Mr. Spock." She sat listening for a while, which never bothered him as long as she didn't try to engage him in conversation while he was playing. She suspected that this was his way of applying his legendary concentration to his music. Or possibly, simply to avoid making small talk.

"Miss Uhura, may I ask a personal favor?"

"Sure, Commander, what is it?"

"Do you recall a song you performed with me, long ago, called 'Beyond Antares'?"

"Oh, yes! I've sung it many times since then." She smiled. "Although not with such a talented accompanist."

"I have composed a variation on the accompaniment. Would you care to sing it now so I may hear the combination?"

"I would love to."

_The stars are green and glowing where my heart is, where my heart is..._

She was loving a chance to sing - she should do this more often - Then she glanced over at Spock, whose accompaniment was really very good. But his eyes were not on his lyre, nor on the singer, nor even gazing off at nothing as is a musician's habit. He was looking at something to the right of her. Not just looking - his face was impassive, as usual, but his eyes -

She had to see. Without missing a beat, she turned as if to sing to Chekov and Sulu at a table nearby and let her glance quickly take in the room. Rand had departed, as had most of the "buddies." On a divan facing the main viewport sat the visiting artist, Tanafau, and if Spock's gaze was smoldering, hers was already a bonfire.

They finished the song amid applause from their diminished audience. The boys got up to leave, but Uhura sat for a few minutes with the wine she wanted to finish. It just happened that she could see both Spock and Tanafau from her seat as she idly shuffled the cards Rand had left. For once, Spock seemed oblivious to his surroundings as he lay the lyre down carefully and stood up. He walked over to the divan and stood for a moment, spoke to the lady, seated himself close to her but not touching, closer than he usually allowed others to approach.

They spoke in low voices, and in a language she didn't know - there was a shock! - and when their voices trailed off she sneaked another look over her glass of wine. She nearly choked on it. Spock's arm lay across the low back of the divan, and Tanafau's long hair spilled over it as her head rested on his shoulder. Uhura whipped her eyes back to the cards lying on her table and gulped the rest of her wine. Spock had risen and was putting the lyre back in its case as Tanafau came over to Uhura.

"Good evening, Lieutenant," she said. "Are you going back to your quarters? May I walk with you?"

"Of course. And please, call me Nyota."

"Good night, ladies," Spock said softly as they left the room. As they proceeded along the corridor, Tanafau asked, "How long have you known Commander Spock?"

"Since I was first posted to _Enterprise_. Going on five years now. How about you?"

"We met long ago, but have only recently renewed our acquaintance. I have not always lived on Vulcan, so we haven't encountered each other for some time."

"And now you're friends with Amanda Grayson. Seems ironic, doesn't it?"

Her companion laughed, incongruous coming from a woman who otherwise appeared completely Vulcan. "It does indeed. You have no idea." Tanafau stopped walking and turned to face Uhura. "Spock says you're one of his most trusted friends."

Uhura was floored. "I'm very glad to hear it. It's hard to tell sometimes whom he trusts."

"The Vulcan way, of course."

"We only have one more day to Markkot," said Uhura. "Maybe you and I could find time for a chat on your way back."

"I look forward to it."


	13. Memory

Tanafau never thought any species could out-gossip her former crew, but these humans seemed to require it in order to survive. It made her wonder how she and Spock were going to remain discreet. Fortunately, not only did no one suspect their first officer of harboring anything like emotion, but that if they did no one would dare gossip about it and risk his stony disapproval. Spock was not a violent man; he only looked like he _could_ be if he so chose. Tanafau knew the value of being feared, however unfounded the fear might be; it was one of the weapons she had used to offset her disadvantage as a woman in her old life.

Tanafau settled on the couch and contemplated the stars. She had been planetbound for so long she had nearly forgotten how stunning it was to be surrounded by them. The door chime sounded and she said, "Enter," rising to see the visitor. It was, of course, Spock; she was expecting him, but again, old habits died hard and she had never liked leaving her back to the door. He came over and took her hands.

"Are you well, Tanafau?" he asked, and she smiled. Humans thought Vulcans were insensitive, when in fact they were usually acutely aware of their emotional environment, mainly in order to avoid any psychic disturbance. He could tell she was restless.

"I'm well. There is something about being back on board such a ship, though - something - nostalgic, I suppose." She gave a half-laugh and turned back to her viewport. She heard him come to stand behind her, close enough for her to feel his heat, but he didn't speak or touch her. After a long silence, she said, "I don't wish to command a ship. I don't wish to return to the Empire. I don't know what I wish, but being here, in space, stirs old memories and emotions." She turned to look up at him. "Some of them concern you."

Spock nodded. "That does not surprise me." He watched as she began to wander about the room.

"When I was transported to Enterprise," she said, "I don't know what I expected would happen. When your captain treated me as a guest rather than as a prisoner, I was hopeful that I would be returned to my people, that they would see my situation as a misfortune rather than a casualty. As you know, I was taken to Starbase VI, where I'm sure you and Captain Kirk thought I would be treated well."

"Was that not the case?"

"In a word, no." Her eyes flashed. "I was not imprisoned, but neither was I freed. No communication was permitted with any representative of the Empire. I was watched like a hawk and any time I so much as approached a communications device or transport I was returned to my quarters. I was told that I had no status, that I was neither a prisoner of war nor a hostage. They called me a 'person of interest'. Military euphemisms." She bit off the words. "When at last a communication was received from the Empire, I was told that the Federation could dispose of me as they wished. As far as ch'Rihan was concerned, I was dead."

Spock could not imagine her emotions. At least his people accepted him, reluctantly, in some cases intolerantly, but he always had a home. However, he addressed her immediate point.

"Had I known of this - "

"That was my only comfort, Spock. That you did not know." She saw his frown and went on. "We meant less to each other then than we did the day you walked into my gallery. Still, I knew that as a man of honor, if you had known of it, you would never have allowed my captors to act as they did. You know that I will not accept charity. I tell you now, in a moment of weakness I actually told the Federation that I knew you, knew where you served, and that you would stand my advocate. If my own people would not deliver me, perhaps you, although an alien who had already betrayed me once, would be honorable enough to act on my behalf. When I heard nothing further, I knew the fault was most likely not yours, but that of my captors, who probably never tried to contact you."

"I regret that I never heard of this; I give you my word. However, your logic is sound. If I had heard of your treatment, if I had succeeded in my inquiries - "

"Your inquiries?" She stopped pacing to stare at him.

"Indeed. As long as we are being candid, I should tell you that I spent some time trying to discover your status and whereabouts. I could find nothing. I was told you had been returned to your people."

Still she stared, astonished. "You were looking for me?"

"It was due to my actions that you were unwillingly taken from your people. My actions in regard to procuring the cloaking device were my duty, and therefore not subject to debate. My actions toward you are another matter."

He remembered the conversation in the turbolift:

_"The cloaking device was my only interest when I boarded your vessel."_

_"And that's exactly all you came away with."_

"I was looking for you, either to ascertain that you had been returned safely, or to offer assistance in the process. I wanted to know that there would be no animosity between us, that you would remember our hour together as - interesting, if not pleasant." It was his turn to gaze out the viewport. "It is illogical. And ultimately, futile. I was unable to find any information about you."

"Our - hour together. It was both interesting and pleasant. Pleasant! Spock, that is too faint a word. Don't you know what you did to me in that hour?"

"The physical sensation - "

"Physical sensation can be traitorous. I knew that. Do you think you could have succeeded with your distraction if I hadn't already been receptive to such seduction? If I hadn't already been longing for such contact?" Her heart was racing. "I told you my life was glorious. It was also lonely, more lonely than even you can imagine. I accepted that when I rose to the rank of commander. A woman in my position could either take a lover who would guard her back, or one who could be discarded easily, and she can never really be sure of either. I would not settle for either. I chose a life with no friend, no lover, no confidant, not even contact with my own family. It's no wonder they wrote me off, as the humans say. I was already isolated. I had what I wanted, at a high cost, but I was willing to pay it. Until you arrived."

Spock was silent, his head bowed, listening as the tide of her memory washed over him in her words.

"I was on my guard from the moment I saw you. Your captain did not impress me, with his fast talk and manipulation; it was obvious he was after something. I made the fatal mistake of assuming that you, as a Vulcan, would have some sympathy for your Romulan kin, that logic would prevail in a potentially explosive situation. I spoke to you of the attractions of joining us, but I was really persuading myself that you - " She took a deep breath. "That what you wanted was to join _me_. It was intoxicating. Maddening."

" _Vashkurik_ ," he murmured, coming to her and touching her face. "That was also my ruin. Not that I was persuaded, but that I was attracted." He hesitated. "May I show you?"

She realized what he was asking. "Touch my mind, Spock. Show me."

He placed his fingers on her contact points, the better to communicate, although it would be one-way this time.

She saw in his memory the command room on her ship, an alcove, herself reclining on an elbow and talking to him about Romulan culture. She was seeing through his eyes and hearing his thoughts. When he told her, "I do...appreciate it," she felt a shot of desire from him that he had not anticipated and felt him control it. She murmured her name in his ear and he felt another surge at her closeness. When she left the room, he had to act quickly, but his senses were still processing what had gone before, and when she reappeared in her informal attire, she felt his hope that he might be excused for indulging his curiosity. His impulses. She laughed aloud and he began to withdraw from the meld, but she held his hand to her face and reached for his mind.

From him she felt surprise; no, disbelief; no, total and complete amazement. This time he did withdraw and stood with his hand caressing her face, staring into her eyes.

Finally he said, "You have accomplished the impossible."

"Impossible? Experiencing your thoughts?"

"No – reaching back through mental contact of your own will. The Vulcan mind is well fortified against intrusion by another Vulcan, let alone that of a non-telepath."

"Perhaps the Romulan mind is more telepathic than you think." At his inquiring look she shook her head. "No, I don't know anything about Romulan neurobiology. All I know is that there _is_ a connection, as you said, not just a by-product of physical gratification, and I – we - must explore it, understand it, perhaps even – embrace it."

Still he stood, searching her face.

"Mr. Spock," she whispered, "your eloquence has deserted you."

As he could not find suitable words, he tipped her face up and kissed her, at the same time lowering his emotional shields, not entirely but significantly, and allowing her to sense the result of her words. It was so easy for her to speak of emotions; he was able to acknowledge them, but expressing or even identifying them was difficult for him, most of the time. He could only try to show her, with his mind and his body, that he had them.

Tanafau saw within him his longing, confusion, frustration, yet also a determination that matched hers to come to an understanding of whatever it was he was feeling. What they both were feeling. There was as well a dark sense of regret for wasted time, for divided allegiances, and the pain they both felt at being rejected by their own kind.

She took in as much as she could, trying to show him in return what was in her heart and mind. Discipline, survival, fierce independence, but at the same time womanhood, the need for a future, the desire for one who would be her equal and her hopelessness at ever meeting such a being. Above all, a pent-up wealth of love, passion, loyalty, waiting to be poured out, in the faint chance she should find someone worthy of it. And running through it all, glimpses of himself a she saw him, saturnine, elusive, sexual.

He took in as much as he could. When he felt his own hands trembling he withdrew from her mind and took her in his arms. She looked up at him, lay her hand on his face, traced his lips with her thumb, as if seeing him for the first time. Spock kissed the thumb, then leaned forward to take it in his mouth and stroke it with his tongue. Tanafau gasped and felt his hands on her hips, pulling her against him -

\- But then the door chime sounded and Tanafau uttered a choice word of Romulan invective. "Who is it?" said Spock, more sharply than he had intended.

"Lt. Leslie, sir."

Spock broke the embrace but kept hold of Tanafau's hand as he said, "Enter."

The two men who entered wore the red shirts and sidearms of Starfleet security.


	14. Charges

Spock had found that remaining silent frequently goaded humans into speech without his having to question them. This was the case with the security officers; he had only to stare stonily at them for four point three seconds before the taller of them spoke.

"Commander Spock. Ma'am, I'm sorry about this." He took a step toward them, looking at Tanafau. "I've been instructed to take you into custody."

Spock hadn't even opened his mouth when she demanded, "On whose orders?"

"Starfleet Command, ma'am. Admiral Komack."

"I am part of a diplomatic mission," she said, still bristling. "I have immunity."

"Ma'am, I don't know the details." To his credit, the man looked unhappy at having to arrest someone who obviously knew Mr. Spock. "If you'll come with me, I'm sure it'll all get sorted out, right, Commander?" he said, appealing to an authority higher than himself.

"Indeed it will," said Spock, no more cordial than Tanafau. "In fact, I will accompany the lady in order to ensure she is treated fairly while we await the outcome of this order."

The tall one looked even more miserable. "Sir, I was instructed not to let her see or speak to anyone while in custody. Including other Starfleet personnel."

"What the hell is going on here? Stand down, dammit!"

Kirk's outrage thundered over the conversation as he shouldered his way through the guards. They put up their weapons but the leader said, "We're following orders from Admiral Komack, sir."

"Admiral Komack isn't in command of this ship."

"He sent word through Lt. Kyle, sir, that this lady was to be detained until further notice, without access to conversation with anyone, including Starfleet personnel." Having delivered the summary per the request of the head of security, the tall guard watched Kirk with apprehension.

Kirk turned to Tanafau. "This is completely uncalled for, of course, but if you wouldn't mind – "

"Oh, but I do, Captain Kirk." Tanafau was once more looking every inch the commander. "As I told these officers, I am part of a diplomatic mission. I will not do anything that smacks of an admission of agreement or guilt."

"Captain, may I make a suggestion?"

"I wish you would, Mr. Spock."

"Would confining the comm – Tanafau to quarters satisfy the demands of both sides? The comm panel can be disabled centrally, although I do not believe such a precaution is necessary." He practically glowered at the security guards.

"Neither do I. However, I'll take that suggestion, that is, if it's agreeable to you, ma'am?"

"It is not agreeable," she snapped. "But I will endure it, until such time as this action is remedied."

"Very well. Carry on, gentlemen. Spock, you're with me."

The security guards took up positions outside the door. Spock took a last look at Tanafau. She stood, much as she had in the turbolift after her inadvertent defection, straight and resolute but burning with anger. She looked back at him and despite his lifelong practice at reading unreadable expressions, he could not guess her thoughts.

He turned away to go after Kirk.

"Captain Kirk. I presume you're contacting me regarding the security breach on your ship," said Admiral Komack on the viewscreen.

"There has been no breach. I have no idea why you've arrested a woman who is simply a passenger on a diplomatic mission."

"Is that what she told you? Really, Jim, I didn't think you'd be so gullible."

"Sir, if you want to exchange insults, I'll be happy to oblige you next time I'm Earthside," growled Kirk at the monitor. "Let's just stick to the facts, shall we?"

"All right then, the facts. But don't you think you should excuse your first officer before we begin the discussion?"

Kirk frowned. Spock froze.

"I have no reason to excuse Commander Spock. His assessment of this situation is valuable – indispensable – to me."

"Very well, then, let me state right away that it's his involvement with the Romulan that has brought about this turn of events."

Kirk had nothing but admiration for Spock's ability to keep his mouth shut, which did not fail him now.

"Please, begin by telling me the charge currently against our guest," said the captain.

"She is charged with espionage, aiding and abetting the enemy, and escaping Federation custody."

"And your evidence?"

"Will be presented at the appropriate time, Captain."

"Is it not the right of any sentient being to be presented with the charge against him or her at the time of his or her detainment, Admiral?" Spock spoke mildly, but Kirk knew that belied the indignation beneath the Vulcan exterior.

"It is – if the being is not classed as an enemy combatant. As it stands, your friend has no status in the Federation, Commander. It remains to be seen whether she will be permitted to enjoy any rights after these proceedings. I will be arriving on board _Enterprise_ in two days, Captain, with others in authority, to take part in those proceedings."

"I must lodge a formal protest," Spock put in, "on behalf of Sarek of Vulcan, against the treatment of one of his colleagues in such a manner."

"Noted and logged," said Komack, but he didn't sound the least bit impressed. He signed off and Kirk turned to his first officer.

"Spock, please tell me what gave Komack the impression that you are, or were, 'involved' with Tanafau?"

"I do not know for certain, Jim. I suspect that he has noticed the frequency with which I communicate with Vulcan, and the fact that it has diminished since the lady came on board."

"But what would cause him to take notice of your communication habits?"

The door chime sounded. Immediately a voice came over the comm panel.

"Captain Kirk, this is Ambassador Sarek. May I come in?" At an eyebrow from Spock, Kirk rose and said, "Enter, please."

Sarek came in and nodded to Spock, then said, "Captain, I am unable to speak with my assistant, Tanafau. Your security people will not allow me access to her. I demand to know what has happened in my absence."

"I wish I knew, Ambassador. Please, sit down." The older man did so and Kirk continued, "Admiral Komack has had her arrested and confined. I don't know the basis for his accusations, which are espionage, escape, and aiding and abetting the enemy. He claims Spock has some part in it." Identical eyebrow lifts. "I don't believe it. But he's got to have something to build such an accusation. Do you have any idea what it is?"

"I am not in complete possession of the facts, Captain, but I believe that between us Spock and I may be able to theorize."

Kirk turned to look at Spock again. _Two Vulcans_ , he thought. _What did I ever do to deserve having to pry the truth out of two of them at once?_ This time he took a page from Spock's playbook and kept his mouth shut. Finally, the younger Vulcan spoke.

"I did not know of the commander's fate after we left her with the authorities on Starbase VI, until we encountered each other quite by accident on Vulcan. She related to me that she had been detained for thirty months and released, then applied herself to making a living as an artisan. It was there that she met my mother." He looked over at Sarek, who took up the narrative.

"Neither Amanda nor I knew of Tanafau's past when we met. My wife struck up a friendship and a correspondence, and eventually we made it possible for her to relocate to Vulcan." He added with a touch of respect, "An act of kindness for which she has paid in full, on her own insistence, not to mention that she is dear to my wife."

Kirk nodded. "That's not the end of it, though, is it?"

"Is it, Spock?"

They both looked at Spock, who said slowly, "I befriended Tanafau also, on my last visit several weeks ago. I mentioned to my parents that the lady and I had met before, but not the circumstances."

"You were extremely discreet in that respect, if I may say so."

"Thank you, Father. Since then Tanafau and I have also kept a correspondence, which may be part of the 'evidence' Admiral Komack claims to have. As you may imagine, none of her acquaintance can relate to her service aboard a starship; they are only aware that she is Romulan and in exile. I had hoped that we could maintain a friendship, however remote, out of respect for my mother and to continue a dialogue that began nearly five years ago."

"A dialogue," Kirk stated. Spock looked blandly at him but did not seem any more forthcoming.

"My son, remember to whom you are speaking."

Spock's look at his father was anything but bland; he actually looked a bit annoyed. "Of course, Father. Jim is my friend as well as my commanding officer."

"Then he is entitled to your confidence, as your friend."

Their eyes locked. In the moments that followed, Spock thought, _how much does my father know? Is it at all relevant to this matter? What would Tanafau have me say?_ Then he decided that her freedom was the priority here, and he spoke up.

"I trust we may keep this off the record, Captain, but even if that is not the case, my father is correct in saying that I am obliged to share this information."


	15. Disclosure

"Tanafau and I have gone beyond renewing a friendship. She and I became intimate during my recent time on Vulcan, and we have been involved in a romantic relationship ever since."

James Kirk was floored by this matter-of-fact statement and the tone with which it was delivered – as if Spock were giving coordinates for an orbit. Sarek's face was completely blank. Spock went on, "That is the only motive we have for our frequent communication, for any time we spend together, and I assume for her presence as part of Sarek's entourage."

"Her assistance on this journey was planned some time ago, before Spock was with us last," put in Sarek. "Your role as our escort was fortuitous, Captain. On any other ship, she might have been undefended."

Kirk pulled himself together and said, "I thank both of you for the information. Ambassador, it is by Admiral Komack's orders that Tanafau is isolated; confining her to quarters was the best compromise I could reach. We will rendezvous with a delegation from Starfleet in two days. I'm sure we'll all do our best to remedy this situation as soon as possible."

"Thank you, Captain. I will tell Amanda of our conversation, with your permission, of course." Kirk nodded and Sarek spared a glance for his son. "The majority of the conversation, that is."

Sarek left and Kirk took another of those deep breaths.

"All right, Spock. What's the rest of the story?"

"There is none, Jim. You have heard the facts as I know them. I have been discreet, and I have not been derelict in my duty or loyalty to Starfleet, nor to my family. I have nothing to be ashamed of." He seemed to hesitate.

"But - ?" said his friend, not unkindly.

"If my inquiries are correct, the Federation has much to answer for."

Kirk left that for the moment and returned to contemplating the Vulcan. To be sure, he was capable of deep friendships, as several of his fellow crewmembers could attest. But romantic? He realized Spock was gazing at him with something like resignation.

"Come on, Spock. Let's get something to eat. It's been a long day."

"With your permission, Captain, I would like to spend some time in meditation."

"I don't blame you, Spock. Let me know if there's anything I can do."

Uhura was sitting in the officers' mess finishing her meal when Kirk came to sit across from her with his. "Lieutenant. How's the meat loaf?"

She shrugged. "Unremarkable, as Mr. Spock would say."

"Indeed. Also as Spock would say." They chatted of nothing for a few minutes. Then Kirk asked impulsively, "Uhura, you and Spock are friends, aren't you?"

"You're the second person to ask me that in the last few days, Captain. Yes, we are, and why do you ask?"

"I'm trying to figure out something about him, and I don't want you to take this the wrong way. What is it women see in Spock, anyway?"

Her eyes widened and she looked as though she were about to laugh. Biting back several snappy retorts that came suddenly to mind, she settled instead for saying, "You mean, why would a woman be attracted to him?"

"I'm not getting too personal, am I?"

"Oh, don't worry, Captain. Spock and I are friends, but I've never felt the urge to take him on." Her smile became thoughtful. "Well, first off, he's very polite. Respectful, doesn't waste your time, honest – "

"The Vulcan boy scout."

"All Vulcans are like that, sir, particularly in superficial matters. Spock is a first-class scientist as well, and he doesn't compromise when it comes to the facts. He has a creative side, as a musician. And of course, physically, he's sexy as all get out."

"Spock? Sexy?" Kirk realized they weren't alone and lowered his voice. "You're kidding me."

"Well, look at it objectively. He's tall, dark, has a nice figure, and those ears and eyebrows give him that air of mischief. And Vulcan hands – they use them for the mind meld, and for expressing affection. How could a girl resist someone who can move her with just a touch?" She left out the information that she enjoyed watching the Vulcan's backside when he walked and the way his lips quirked when she said something humorous. Kirk looked confused enough already.

"I don't see it," he said at last. "Just as well. It would never work out."

~!~

Amanda was livid. Her friend was confined to quarters; none of her Federation connections had panned out; the Markkotians refused to allow them any further contact and would not explain why; and worst of all, she felt Sarek and Spock were keeping something from her. The day after Tanafau's arrest, Amanda corralled both her men and sat them down in Spock's quarters.

"I want to know what you're hiding from me. About Tanafau. About what she's being accused of. And you, Spock," she turned on her son. "I think I know what you're hiding, but I want to hear it from your own mouth."

Sarek and Spock exchanged looks. "Perhaps if you were to ask specific questions, Amanda, we could try to address them in turn," said Sarek, almost meekly.

"Why is Tanafau being detained?"

"The charges are espionage and aiding the enemy," said Sarek. "As well as escaping Federation custody. We do not know any further details, but somehow Admiral Komack has taken the action of isolating Tanafau."

"Espionage? What the – Does this have something to do with how you two met? With her original detention?"

"What has she told you?" asked Sarek.

"That she was trying to prevent Spock and the captain from carrying out a mission. She didn't say what the original mission was, and I don't want to know. She told me the bare bones of her story since then, that she was in Federation custody for over two years, that she was unable to return to her people."

"Our original mission, as you call it, is most likely the cause of Admiral Komack's general distrust of Tanafau," said Spock. "However, it does not explain his current action against her."

"Nor does it explain the reason for the action occurring now, rather than any time over the past five years," added Sarek.

Amanda refrained from voicing the rhetorical questions that raised in her mind and went on to her next inquiry. "Why is no one allowed to see her?"

"Again, we do not know, Mother. Admiral Komack implied that her correspondence with me was somehow considered evidence of her alleged activities."

"Very well," she said. Spock knew what was coming next. "Why would Admiral Komack think that, Spock?"

"We have been prolific in our communications. Perhaps the admiral is unfamiliar with the frequent contact necessary to maintain a long-distance friendship."

 _Or any friendship_ , thought Amanda, but she said, "Friendship, Spock?"

Spock suddenly recalled a time when, as a child, he had been caught in some minor mischief, when he thought he had been completely safe from detection. He wondered, not for the first time, whether his mother was more telepathic than she let on. He recognized the wisdom of telling her what she wanted to know freely, rather than having it wrung out of him.

"More than friendship, Mother. Tanafau and I became romantically - involved - during my last visit to Vulcan."

She didn't seem surprised. He should have known. He went on, "We discussed our past acquaintance and the result, and we found we still have much in common. Not the least of which is the fact that we both honor you, and Father."

Amanda looked slightly mollified. Slightly.

"So all those evenings you spent out of the house - ?"

She suppressed a smile as she watched his ears turn slightly greener. "Were with Tanafau. We are both adults; we are not accountable to anyone for our actions." Despite this fact, he observed, he seemed to be reiterating it all too often.

"I agree," said Sarek. "However, it seems Starfleet has taken an interest in your actions, Spock."

"I have done nothing wrong."

"It is illogical to assume your word alone will convince Komack of that. Do you have any evidence to the contrary?"

"None. Our messages were erased by common agreement. We have exchanged no material gifts."

"Then it is your word against Komack's."

"His word, and Tanafau's," argued Amanda. Spock shook his head and said, "Komack will not accept her word, even should he consent to hear her side of the story. To him, she is a piece on a chess board. A representative of a race with whom the Federation failed."


	16. Caged

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up: Tanafau is confined to quarters and hints of harsh treatment are made.

Tanafau paced her rooms as if they were a cage. At regular intervals she obtained food from the replicator and amused herself by creating intricate origami out of the paper from her sketchbook. Her time on Vulcan had taught her patience and the calm of meditation. She needed all those skills now to keep her mind clear for what lay ahead.

Her initial fury had given way to a cold bitterness. She had been looking forward, moving on with her life, until once more the Federation had intervened to force her in the opposite direction. What right had they, once they had done with her, to drag her back? Once they had made her an outcast, couldn't they leave her to rot?

Even as she thought it, she knew it wasn't completely true. She had walked into this with her impulsive decision to throw herself into the transporter beam. If she really wanted to be free of her exile, her loneliness, her disgrace, she could have taken a more final way out. She did own a knife, after all. But that would have been admitting defeat.

And Spock! Here he came, offering the slightest gleam of hope that she had found a confidant, a friend, if not a mate. The only man who knew where she came from, what she had gone through, what decisions she had had to make. She prayed that he was not part of this abominable attempt to imprison her once again. Then she rebuked herself. Spock was not a paragon of virtue, she thought, but with him at least she knew where she stood, and he stood on the side of truth, however painful. If only he could get her accusers to hear the truth.

She made ready for bed, lay down under several blankets; as the environmental control had been (inadvertently, she hoped) reset along with the disabling of the comm system, her quarters had cooled uncomfortably. She thought about the scorching air of Vulcan and the welcome heat of Spock's body against her. A pleasant memory with which to fall asleep. Tanafau closed her eyes and made herself remember every touch, every kiss, every climax, and her body warmed in response. Her thoughts turned to what they would do when they were once more alone in bed, and she felt positively hot.

In the midst of these thoughts, she heard a whisper.

_Tanafau._

_Hallucinating now_ , she thought, mildly amused.

_Tanafau._

She stilled her thoughts and realized she was not hearing the whisper with her ears, but in her mind. The voice came again.

_Listen._

She strained to concentrate, trying to return the thought. It was Spock, she recognized him, trying to reach her as he had their last evening together, when she had refused to speak to him until his mind managed to touch hers from a short distance. She wondered what his current location was, then brushed that thought aside and bent her mind to communicating with his.

_Spock._

_Can you hear me?_

_Spock_. She seemed able to form only his name in her mind, but it was enough. She sensed his satisfaction at having reached her, then his concern for her well-being and safety. It seemed easier to transfer emotions than words. She tried to project reassurance, confidence, trust, and was met with gratified surprise. Had he thought she blamed him? The surprise subsided and she felt his relief, and along with it, curiosity. Had he sensed that she was reliving their intimacy? Experimentally she concentrated on one memory – himself, marking her thigh with his teeth, the first time they had joined.

His return thought was powerful and she felt herself respond, a throb between her legs, her fingers tingling with the memory of his hair and skin. Satisfaction came through their connection, but it was weakening. She remembered that it was difficult to maintain over distance and reluctantly let it fade.

She stretched out full length on her back and began to run her hands over her body, imagining.

Komack beamed aboard as both ships orbited Markkot. Two other Starfleet officials accompanied him, Admirals Lakre and Duane; they looked suitably somber as Komack took the lead. "Permission to come aboard," he said negligently as he stepped off the platform.

"Granted," replied Kirk, despite his urge to say the contrary. He had donned his dress uniform for the occasion, as had Spock, and Sarek and Amanda wore their finest. _No harm in playing the formality to the hilt_ , Kirk thought. _Puts a brave face on it._

"Ambassador," Komack nodded. "Your presence honors us."

"I am unable to reciprocate the sentiment." Sarek of Vulcan was under no requirement to mince words or play along. Kirk caught sight of Amanda suppressing a smile. Komack extended his hand to her and she stared at him; after two seconds he dropped his hand and turned to Spock.

"Commander."

"Admiral."

Kirk was assigning personnel to take the visitors to their quarters as he overheard Komack saying, " – personal interest in the matter?" Spock did not reply but stared coldly at the admiral.

"I would like to see the prisoner immediately," demanded Komack, turning back to Kirk.

"There are no prisoners currently aboard _Enterprise_ ," said Kirk with exaggerated surprise.

"The Romulan. The woman who started all this."

"Her name is Tanafau." This from Spock, who regretted it as soon as it left his lips. Komack looked at him sharply.

"So it matters to you what she is called, Commander? No personal interest?"

"It is a statement of fact, sir. As we share an interest in discovering the _facts_ in this case, I believe the name of the person at its center is a relevant fact."

If Komack had come for a pissing contest, thought Kirk, he was way out of his league. Did the man know nothing about Vulcans? Then it occurred to him that, apart from Vulcans themselves, no one knew more about Spock of Vulcan than the crew of the _Enterprise_. This thought enabled him to smile a bit.

"I will see if the lady is available," he said, enjoying Komack's scowl.

The crew knew something was up. They knew that it involved Kirk, Spock, the ambassador and his wife, and the companion whose behavior was decidedly un-Vulcan. If Kirk and Spock were on her side, however, they were quite willing to back her in any political fight. They were just waiting for a fight to begin.

Uhura ran yet another diagnostic on her panel. Scotty sat in the command chair and brooded. Chekov and Sulu were discussing football clubs.

"Kirk to Bridge Comm."

"Uhura here, Captain."

"Please report to deck two as soon as possible, Lieutenant. The quarters of our guest artist."

She secured her station and departed. When she arrived in the corridor outside Tanafau's quarters she was met by Kirk, Admiral Komack, and Commander Spock.

"Reporting as ordered, sir."

"Lieutenant, the Admiral would like to have a word with Tanafau. I'm unwilling to allow him in there without a chaperone, and he has agreed" – grudgingly, she thought, from the look on Komack's face – "to include an officer who has no ties to our guest or the situation for which she has been detained. Or to Commander Spock, for reasons which may become clear later."

His eyes were fixed on Uhura. He knew she and Spock were friends. Spock knew it. Tanafau knew it. Fortunately, the admiral did not know it.

"As you wish, sir." She followed Komack meekly into the room and the door closed behind them. Tanafau stood in the center of the room, her eyes taking the measure of the two who had entered, arms at her sides, hands open, feet planted firmly. Battle ready, thought Uhura.

"Commander," said Komack. "What a pleasure to see you again."

 _Commander_? Suddenly, finally, Uhura recalled where she had seen Tanafau before, long ago, and she was stunned. Tanafau was saying, "I no longer hold that rank, Admiral, as you well know."

"As you will not provide us with your actual name, it will have to do."

"My name is Tanafau," she replied steadily. "My people do not share their true names as easily as those of your kind. One must earn the right to use the name of a Romulan. As you also know."

Uhura's mind was racing. Of course, the language she had overheard in the lounge had been a Romulan dialect (she was obviously getting a bit rusty). And Spock had originally been responsible for the other woman's transport to _Enterprise_. Some of the pieces of the puzzle were falling into place. She concentrated on picking up more pieces. Komack was speaking again.

"Your people! You have no people. Your Empire abandoned you long ago."

"It was their right and our custom. Have you come here merely to make irrelevant remarks regarding my personal affairs, Admiral?"

"None of your affairs are personal, Commander. As an enemy of the Federation, your movements are of interest to us and subject to surveillance, and, if necessary, intervention."

"Why now? Which of my movements has inspired such interest? My shop on Vulcan? My partnership with Amanda Grayson? Perhaps my friendship with her son?"

Komack looked smug. "Friendship? Is that what you call it?" She remained silent, wary of a trap. _Had she picked up that tactic of silence from Spock_ , thought Uhura, _or was that a weapon already in her arsenal?_ Either way, it annoyed the man. Tanafau ignored his expression and glanced at Uhura inquiringly. Komack said, "Lt. Uhura is here to ensure fair play, per the orders of Captain Kirk. It's more than you deserve. If you have any requests you may make them through the Lieutenant. You may not relay any messages."

The eyes of the two women met. Tanafau asked, "The portrait of the _h'levreinnye_ that I left in the officers' lounge, is it secure?"

Uhura had no idea what she was talking about, but she wasn't a winning poker player for nothing. She replied, "I'll see to it, ma'am."

"It's one of my best works. I was showing it to – "

"That's enough," interrupted Komack. "What is the meaning of that word, Lieutenant?"

" _H'levreinnye_ , sir? My Romulan is a bit rusty but I believe it's a type of raptor native to Vulcan," she lied, having no idea what it meant.

"Very well," he said dismissively. "Lieutenant, after you. Commander, your preliminary hearing will begin at 1400 hours."

"I look forward to it," said Tanafau, but her eyes were on Uhura as they left.

Spock was changing into his everyday uniform, preparing to return to his usual post, when the door chime sounded. "Enter," he said, as he was decently clothed. Uhura came in and quickly stored away for future reference the sight of her superior officer in black t-shirt, trousers and socks, his blue tunic in his hand. If she was right, Tanafau was one lucky woman.

"Mr. Spock, I recently heard a word I think is Romulan, but it's not in any of the standard data files. Do you know the meaning of the word _h'levreinnye_?"

She was astonished at his reaction; he flushed a light jade color and both his eyebrows shot up. She added hastily, "If it's something rude, sir – "

"Not - exactly. What was the context?"

"Tanafau asked me to ensure the security of one of her works, one she said featured a _h'levreinnye_." Again a wave of green. "There's no such work on board, sir. I assumed she was hinting at something else. I thought you might know what she meant by it."

"It is a Romulan word, Lieutenant, not offensive, but rather – suggestive. An erotic term, to be precise."

"Erotic?"

Spock breathed deeply and resigned himself to full disclosure. "Lieutenant, I will tell you its meaning but I must ask that you do not share this information with anyone. You will understand why when I tell you."

"Of course I won't, Spock. You can trust me."

"It is a colloquialism, a term of – endearment. Its literal translation is 'lust devil'." He pulled his tunic on over his head to conceal the truly deep flush now suffusing his face. When he emerged, Uhura was also blushing, but smiling.

"No wonder it's not in the standard vocabulary." She took a chance. "Shall I assume that the item she wished me to check on is – you?"

The eyebrows seemed impressed this time. "It would seem so. Although at a more convenient time I would like to discuss how you came to that conclusion." He hastened on. "Do you believe Admiral Komack is familiar with either the Vulcan or the Romulan language?"

"I think not. He wasn't known at the Academy for familiarity with anything but Standard. I doubt he's picked it up in the meantime."

"Perhaps, in any further conversation you are able to have with Tanafau, you would be willing to insert a word from either of these languages?"

"As a sign from you? What word, Spock?"

Knowing Uhura could translate Vulcan superbly, he said without hesitation, " _T'hai'la_ ," and was startled when she touched his arm, briefly, impulsively, and now her smile was one of encouragement.

"Of course," she said. It was the Vulcan word for 'soul mate'.


	17. Proceedings

Admiral Komack, again, stood with Uhura, who had requested a moment to respond to Tanafau's inquiry.

"There is only one item answering that description on board, ma'am," Uhura told the other woman. "I believe the title of it is _T'hai'la_?"

Tanafau's eyes flashed. "That's the one. Perhaps you could keep an eye on it for me. I would be very distressed if it were lost or mishandled."

"As you wish." She turned to Komack, anticipating his question. " _T'hai'la_ is a Vulcan word, Admiral, the Vulcan translation of the Romulan word _h'levreinnye_ , raptor. I looked it up." As if she'd needed to.

"Very well, Lieutenant." His blank expression told her he was no wiser to the lie.

The charges, as read by Komack, had been brief but damning.

"One, espionage: Gathering intelligence regarding military and political operations, with the intent to parlay this information into her re-admittance to the Romulan Empire.

"Two, aiding the enemy: Boarding a Starfleet vessel with intent to sabotage or commandeer her.

"Three, evading Federation custody: Permission for this individual to depart from Vulcan was not requested or obtained.

"There is also the issue of her falsely representing herself to the Markkotians."

Tanafau sat ramrod-straight, completely ignoring her guards and looking as though she pitied the three admirals.

 _Damn_ , thought Jim Kirk. _I may not see what she sees in Spock, but it's clear why he admires her._ She was brutally honest and unafraid to challenge the "official version" of events; she would pursue this challenge to the bitter end, no matter the cost to herself. A trait both she and Spock shared.

He was remembering a moment on the bridge, just after they had installed the cloaking device and her subcommander was on screen:

_"Destroy this vessel. I gave you a direct order! Tal!"_

He didn't begrudge her that order. He would have done the same thing in her shoes.

"What news from the hearing?"

Kirk and McCoy sat in Sickbay with a bottle between them. Kirk sighed and rubbed his face wearily.

"Nothing useful," he told Bones. "The usual government doublespeak, charges, promises to produce evidence, etc. etc. Komack is leaning on her status as an enemy prisoner and disregarding anything that even hints that she might have any rights."

"What the hell is he after? Sounds like a witch hunt to me."

"I don't know, Bones. I have no idea why a Starfleet admiral with a long and illustrious career should come down so hard on a person whose only sin was serving her people. And being a Romulan." He gulped his shot down and suddenly sat up straight. "Of course. A Romulan."

"I know that look," said McCoy warily. "It usually doesn't bode well for the recipient. Spit it out, Jim, what are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that this might be personal, Bones. Komack's son was part of a defense force that was destroyed, right before the negotiations that created our unstable treaty with the Romulans. Thirty years ago, in what is now the Neutral Zone."

"But Tanafau couldn't have been part of that force – could she?"

"Even if she wasn't – Komack could be taking his revenge on the only Romulan he can get his hands on."

"But why now? He's known her whereabouts for years."

"Still, funny how she gets picked up right after leaving Vulcan for the first time in two years. I'm going to have to pick some Vulcan brains."

"In that case, have another shot, Jim. You're gonna need it."


	18. The tables are turned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be warned: This chapter describes assault and attempted rape.

Admiral Lakre stood with a troubled countenance at the head of the table.

"We have received an urgent transmission from Starfleet Command. It contains a facsimile of a written journal, obtained from the defendant during her detention on Starbase VI, as well as a transcript of its translation, from Romulan to Federation Standard, which was completed only three days ago."

"What of it?" said Komack.

"The events described in the journal have some bearing on the proceedings at hand," Lakre said somberly. "The report sent with the transcript states that the journal in question was confiscated by corrections personnel and handed over to the head of the base, who was supposed to have entered it into the official record after its translation. It was entered without translation, and the original has apparently been lost. This explains the delay in discovering the events described in the journal.

"The head of Starbase VI at the time the journal was supposedly written was you, Admiral Komack."

No one seemed surprised. Komack rolled his eyes and said, "I don't recall the journal. I'm sure procedure was followed to the letter. Why has it only recently been translated?"

"Apparently, no one knew it existed until recently, when the defendant's records were requested for these proceedings. The aide who retrieved them noticed the oversight and sent them to HQ for translation."

 _Hoist by his own petard_ , thought Kirk. _Serves him right_.

"How can we be certain of its accuracy?" asked Admiral Duane.

Spock rose from his seat and spoke.

"As you may know, Admiral," said Spock, "there are only twelve people in Starfleet who understand even one Romulan dialect; Lt. Uhura is the only Starfleet officer who can understand and speak all three. Only three individuals in the entire Federation can read the written language. One is the lieutenant who transcribed this text. Another is Amanda Grayson. The third is head of the Vulcan High Council." He went on, "It would be inappropriate for Amanda Grayson to translate the text for procedural purposes, and we do not currently have access to the Vulcan High Council. Gentlemen, may we accept this transcript as evidence?"

The admirals, not surprisingly, voted two to one in favor. Komack's color began to fade as Harshaw said, "Is there a voice recording or print?"

"Both," said Lakre. "I believe the recording will serve our purpose. You may begin playback on the first page, Commander."

Spock activated the sound file. A female voice, not Tanafau's but the translator's, filled the room. Spock looked over to see the Romulan's face; it was stony, but in the eyes he knew well by now, he saw pain.

"Day three. Komack has cut me off from my people. I cannot send so much as a farewell to my crew, my family. I don't understand his brutality; subjecting a prisoner to such indignities as he has done is not the Romulan way. I had not thought it was the human way, either. Kirk said I would be treated as a guest. It seems I was overly optimistic.

"The admiral seems to have relented slightly in his insistence that I was sent here intentionally to spy. I believe someone – not I! – has convinced him that pressuring me too hard will attract attention from his superiors on the Federation Council. He persists in his visits, however, and I grow more and more suspicious of his motives. Why am I still in custody? If I am charged with any crime, why have I not been transferred to a more appropriate place of detention?"

A pause. "Day five. I will not die. I must not die. I must kill this man.

"He has tried to dishonor me, as a Romulan, as a woman. He is mad over the death of his son. He told me so. He told me in intimate detail what he would do to me over the coming years, torture, deprivation, isolation – rape.

"He began that proceeding today. I don't know who he bribed to divert the security people and cameras. He tried to back me against a wall and I would not move. He struck me and I was sorely tempted, but I didn't strike back. I wanted to goad him into such a rage that he would make a mistake. And he did.

"He got hold of my standard-issue coverall and ripped it down the front, and he tried to seize my arms, to bear me down on the floor. I evaded him and we circled each other. He actually removed his uniform coat and began to unfasten his trousers. The pig.

"He charged at me. I am not a large person; he managed to knock me down and sat on me, kneeling on my arms. His lust, whether for rape or revenge, blinded him. He started to strike me across the face, over and over. He pulled the top of the coverall down to my elbows and leaned over to hiss in my ear, describing what exactly he was about to do.

"I bit him on the shoulder, in the flesh between the neck and the shoulder joint. By then he thought I was conquered, unable to fight; he does not know Romulans. At least I was satisfied to draw blood, a great deal of it; I think I actually ripped out some of his flesh.

"He reared back and one of his knees moved off my arm, and I took advantage of his imbalance to strike his midsection. When he doubled over I hit the back of his neck and he fell like a stone.

"I didn't even bother to straighten my clothes. I kicked him onto his back and ripped his trousers open as he had exposed me. He was stunned, semi-conscious, immobilized.

"I took his penis in my hand and twisted it, and he screamed. I knelt down on him before he could recover, and I bit him again, on the thigh, and gouged his other thigh with my nails. Even I have my limits and I wanted to mark him, not emasculate him. I knew I could not subdue him forever, even with such tactics; I had no chance of escaping the facility without assistance.

"I released him and stood back, against the door of my cell, and straightened my clothing as best I could, watching him. He looked as though he were gathering strength for another charge, but it took him a little time to secure his trousers and he was bleeding from the wound on his shoulder.

"Fate intervened. His communicator on the floor in his coat beeped. He did not answer, but staggered toward me. He paused just out of arm's reach as if calculating how to attack. His communicator signaled again and he ignored it. I was preparing for another bout when I heard boots in the corridor outside. Without turning my back on my attacker I moved away from the door, and it opened on three security guards.

"When Komack did not answer his communicator, they were obliged to come check on him. I do not know how he silenced them afterward; I was clearly bruised and battered, and the distinguished admiral was bleeding.

"He has not tried to touch me again. If he ever does, I will kill him in any way that I can."

The voice fell silent. Tanafau was motionless, her eyes on Komack, her hands relaxed on the arms of her chair. Her eyes were dry, and her heart was pounding.

Finally Lakre spoke.

"Madam, is this a transcript of a journal written by you?"

"It is," she said clearly.

"Do you testify that these events actually occurred while you were in Federation custody on Starbase VI?"

"I do."

"Has it been transcribed accurately as far as you recall?"

"This is hearsay!" shouted Komack, breathing heavily. "Fantasy!" His face was now reddening. Lakre continued to press for answers.

"Have you any proof that these events actually occurred?"

A moment of sheer hate flickered across her face. "Perhaps you should check Admiral Komack for bite marks."

Jim Kirk nearly cheered. Komack made a scoffing noise, but he looked uneasy.

"While these events do not nullify the charges against you," Lakre continued, "they certainly mitigate them." He glanced at Komack, who seemed to be tongue-tied. "I believe we should recess until 1400 to consider this information among ourselves."


	19. Declarations

"How is he, Bones?"

"He'll make it. Sometimes I hate the Hippocratic Oath." McCoy scowled down at the unconscious man on the biobed. Komack had suffered an aneurysm and collapsed in the conference room. Kirk, McCoy, and Spock were the only three privy to this conversation.

"But what should really interest you has nothing to do with his aneurysm." McCoy untied the neck of the medical gown the patient wore and drew down one shoulder of it. A hardened scar, the size and shape of a small humanoid set of teeth, showed clearly on his neck.

"He had to treat it himself, and he didn't do a very good job. Starfleet doctors would never leave such an ugly mark. I presume that if he'd sought medical attention there would have been an inquiry." He looked slyly at Kirk. "Wanna see the other bite mark? It's worse than this one."

"No," said Kirk hastily. "Wounds I can stand, but its location..."

Spock stood silently by, like a ghost, until McCoy turned and said, "Spock, I think this should clear her of all charges."

"Not necessarily," he replied. "It shows that Komack held a grudge against her. Whether there is evidence to prove his grudge was unfounded remains to be seen."

"You cold-blooded hobgoblin!" McCoy growled. "Do you want her to go back to prison?"

Before Spock could reply, Kirk spoke. "He wants her cleared. Probably even more than she does."

Spock inclined his head, turned and left, and McCoy said, "What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

The guards flanking Tanafau stepped away. She was free.

Amanda flew at her friend and embraced her fiercely; Tanafau felt victorious and yet stunned. Kirk came to offer his congratulations; Sarek looked as approving as possible. She realized her legs were shaking and sat down suddenly. Amanda collected herself and said, "I think the lady needs to recover. Shall we leave you for a bit, my dear?" Tanafau nodded gratefully and her well-wishers retreated into the corridor. She was alone for the first time in days. She breathed deeply, searching for the strength that had kept her going, and found only emptiness.

Her emptiness vanished when the door re-opened and a tall man with black hair, pointed ears, and a blue Starfleet uniform came swiftly through it. She stood and held out her hand, and without hesitation, he took it and held it to his cheek. Then he released her and they left the room, side by side, without a word.

They entered his quarters. Her back to him, she said, "Spock, I want - "

He stood patiently. She gave an exasperated sigh. "I'm not used to baring my soul to anyone, let alone a room full of aliens. I can't even say what I want to you."

"Speak your mind, my lady."

"I am not about to apologize for what I did, or what I wrote in that journal. It is the truth." She came to stand before him, searching his face. "I did what I had to do, to survive, with my self-respect as intact as possible. You have seen now the depths of my torment as well as the victory of my survival. I have no more secrets from you."

Spock didn't answer right away. He took her face in his hands, stroking her cheekbones with his thumbs. He sank his fingers into her hair, smoothing it back from her face. Now that he wished to declare himself, he chose his words carefully.

" _Taluhk nash-veh k'dular_. (I cherish thee.)"

She caught her breath in something like triumph and said, " _Jol-ao au_ (I love you.)"

Spock kissed her deeply, letting his emotional shields down completely, and felt her love as it was freed from the fortress of control she had held for so long. When they parted slightly he breathed in her ear her name, her true name, spoken only once between them, years ago.

 _"Hlai'vna_ (wild bird)," and he tasted her tears on his lips before she kissed them away. She kissed his face, all over, not forgetting his ears, and he bowed his head as if basking in her attentions. Her hands stroked his neck, his shoulders, his back, and for the first time he felt nothing but tenderness in her touch, not aggression or defense as when they had joined before. She slid her hands up his back under his tunic and said, softly, "Spock," just to savor the sound. He made a sound like "Hmmm?" and his hand came up to cradle the back of her head, bringing her face up to look at her.

"Take me to bed," she murmured. "Take me."

Spock swung her up in his arms and covered the few steps to his bedroom, sat with her on his lap, where her mouth was level with his."Kiss me," he whispered, daring to speak words he had never spoken before; it sounded strange and startling in his own voice. As her lips teased and nipped at his he let his hand stroke up her leg, slipping under the hem of her skirt only to find that her tights covered her lower body completely. Against her mouth he noted, "This is an extremely inconvenient article of clothing," and she laughed. Sliding off his lap, kicking off her boots, she lifted her skirt slightly and literally tore the tights off along the back seam. But she let the skirt fall back again and he allowed her to see his disappointment. She laughed again, like a girl.

"Tit for tat, my Vulcan. What inconvenient clothing are you going to remove?" He cocked an eyebrow and rose; kicking off his boots, he reached for the waistband of his black trousers and slid them down and off, laying them aside. She stood with hands on her hips and a hungry look in her eye.

"Excellent choice. You must have the finest legs in Starfleet."

"I cannot speak to that," he said, coming nearer, "but as they will soon be wrapped around yours, you may have the opportunity to evaluate them further." He stood within centimeters of her and pulled his tunic off over his head, stirring his scent in her nostrils. "Your turn, _vakshurik_ ," he said and she reached down to slip off her underwear. Spock put his hands on her waist, tilted his head to take her mouth yet again, and stroked down to get his hands under her skirt again, this time cupping her naked buttocks and lifting her slightly off her feet. She moaned. " _H'levreinnye."_

He decided to earn the title. In one smooth motion he swung her onto the bed, took hold of her dress and peeled it off over her head, leaving her completely nude. She reached for his briefs and he caught her hand in his.

"Not yet," he whispered. "For once I will make love to you, not fight to win your favors." He brought her hand up to his mouth, kissing and sucking each finger, his free hand stroking her hair and ears. When he had done with her hand he laced his fingers through hers, bringing her other hand above her head in the same way. She closed her eyes and sighed, feeling his lips beginning at her ear and teasing their way down her throat, dipping to kiss the hollow of her clavicle; his hands slowly released hers and she stroked his hair. He rubbed his face over her breasts and brought his hands down to stroke and caress them, his warm breath preceding the sensation of a wet tongue on her nipple. She gasped; allowing a man to pleasure her without resistance was proving to be a revelation. Her gasp turned to keening as his lips and fingers urged her nipples into throbbing centers of arousal.

Still stroking her breasts, Spock carefully shifted so that his body now lay on hers, between her legs, her sex pressing against his belly. She moaned again and squirmed, trying to rub against him, but he shifted again and curled his arms around her thighs. Her scent drove his pulse even higher. She saw his head dip and waited for him to tease her sex; but instead he flicked his tongue over her navel and bit down lightly on the skin around it.

"Yes," she breathed, "mark me. I am yours."

His head came up then with a nearly wild expression she had never seen on his face. The Starfleet officer was gone, the Vulcan was gone, submerged now beneath the desire and need that was at his core. He growled softly and, as when they had first joined, brought his head down between her legs and bit her thigh, in the same place as before, harder, drawing blood. It was like tasting victory. He licked his lips only to plunge them deeply into her soft, hot center, thrusting against her clitoris as she pumped against his mouth and panted and moaned in her native tongue.

Spock felt both his physical and emotional control leaving him. His mouth still buried in her, he reached down and yanked off his briefs, gripping himself with a slick hand, stroking once, twice, to lubricate, and as she was still straining for release he flung himself on top of her and used his hand to guide his shaft into her entrance.

"I cannot stop," he gasped against her neck. "I want to bring you with me." Somehow she shifted her hips so that his length was pressing against her in just the right place, inside her body, and she grabbed his hair and cried out, harder, harder, so he thrust harder, harder than ever before, and felt her tighten and her juices flow against his shaft, a few more jerks, spasms, and his own liquid fire poured into her and he found that, strangely, his eyes were full of tears. He gasped and gazed down at her and his look of longing and relief brought tears to her own eyes once more.

There was blood on his cheek - her blood! - and she wiped it away with his tears.


	20. Decisions

Spock met his beloved in his parents' quarters for the evening meal, startling his parents by kissing Tanafau lightly on the cheek and doing the same for his mother. To Sarek it must have seemed quite an orgy, he thought wryly to himself.

Over the meal his father shared some information regarding Tanafau's arrest and Komack's actions.

"The Markkotian minister of culture noticed differences between my appearance and behavior, and that of Tanafau," he told them. "He did not trust anyone on Enterprise to inform him accurately as to our racial composition, so he contacted the only other person he has spoken with at Starfleet - Admiral Komack. According to Admiral Lakre, the minister was 'nearly hysterical' that there was a member of a species completely unknown to them in our delegation. I had hoped that Tanafau's racial origin would not become an issue, despite their xenophobic culture. Apparently the minister is an extreme example."

Amanda rolled her eyes for both of them. "It's always a gamble, guessing what difficulties are going to arise with a new culture. As a xenophilic human, I don't think I would have even noticed any differences, let alone run off to rant about them."

"It is no gamble, Amanda. There is a small margin of error possible in predicting the behavior of a species with whom we have had limited contact, but it is acceptable. And I would hardly describe you as xenophilic, with one exception, of course." Sarek must have been teasing his wife, whose eyes were mischievous. She turned to Spock and continued the conversation.

"Komack knew that as long as Tanafau lived on Starbase VI he could keep an eye on her, make sure she didn't tell anyone about his actions. When Sarek and I offered her a home on Vulcan, he couldn't very well object. He was waiting for her to make some move he could arrest her for, return her to custody." Her eyes were troubled as she looked at her friend. Tanafau reached over to take her hand and squeeze it, and took up the tale.

"When I left Vulcan on this mission - and it was no pretext! - Komack was tracking me. Here I was on a Starfleet vessel; it was easy for him to convince someone that my intentions were not what they seemed. The Markkotians just added fuel to the fire. As soon as Komack had collected a few spurious bits of 'evidence' he contacted your security chief, and there I was, like an insect pinned to a table."

"I still do not understand," said Spock, "why a man like Admiral Komack would be at all concerned about your actions. Had he not required medical attention from a doctor who was conversant with your circumstances, the bite marks would never have been examined. He could easily have bluffed his way past any request to check for them."

"You might say that fate, or chance, intervened. Yet again," said Tanafau softly and took his hand. Under the table.

The course of true love, thought Spock, never did run smooth. Shakespeare had stated it accurately. He spent several hours in meditation, focusing on his decision, his motivation, and his logic.

Was he unduly influenced by an emotional or biological state – lust, loneliness? A desire to procreate? To please his parents, his society? At the last thought he paused in amusement. The half-breed son of Sarek, to bond with a Romulan? Even more unprecedented than Sarek's choice of mate. Perhaps there was some one-upmanship going on? Certainly not. Spock had never set out to exceed his father's accomplishments in anything; he had always striven to be his own man.

However, he did need to speak to his father about this. He reserved the item for later perusal and continued his meditations.

Was this an attempt to redeem himself, to make up to her the loss of her freedom, her people? That took some examination. He was ruthless with himself, as he knew she would be. After much inner debate, he concluded that, as he had not believed himself guilty at the time, he would not believe so now. She had obviously moved on; he would continue to do so.

Spock rose from his meditations and went to find Sarek.

 

"Are you certain this is a logical course of action, Spock?" Sarek spoke sharply, as if in reprimand. "Bonding with Tanafau?"

They sat across from each other in Spock's quarters. Spock responded cautiously. "I am certain that it is the _correct_ course. Thus far it has seemed logical to me. Can you advise me of any errors in judgment?"

"I know of none." Sarek seemed to hesitate for a moment. "However, It is my opinion that this is a decision you will regret. Not because your intended is of another species; your mother and I are proof that interspecies marriage can succeed. It requires a great deal of mental and emotional effort, but it has been rewarding."

"I am gratified to hear it, although not surprised."

"Thank you. I believe, however, that your situation is not conducive to success. It is conceivable that a Vulcan may join with a human; our cultures are not so different that they cannot coexist in relative harmony."

"I think I understand your objection. Do you expect that, as a Romulan, Tanafau will be unable to integrate further into Vulcan society?"

"I do not underestimate her ability to be a active member of our society. I admire her tenacity and inventiveness. However, if our people have had difficulty accepting your mother, a woman of integrity and honor, respectable in her own right, how will they react to a woman with no antecedents, whose past must remain secret, a member of a race which has shown such animosity toward us, bonding with one of their own?"

He knew as soon as he said it that it was an error. This seldom happened to him, but it seemed to occur most frequently when he was talking to his son. Spock's voice was controlled.

"I am not one of Vulcan's own, Father, despite your views. However, you have spoken of forging connections with the Romulans. Is not an individual relationship the beginning of a connection? Whether it be between families, worlds, or cultures?"

"It is, Spock. But I do not know if Vulcan is yet ready for such a beginning." He studied the other man for a moment. "You are not motivated by political reasons, I trust."

"A reasonable surmise. I am not; there are other reasons why the bond should take place. Besides the obvious – procreation, companionship, sexual satisfaction –"

"All of which can be achieved without bonding."

Spock acknowledged this with a nod and continued, " – mutual support, be it financial, social, or political – besides all these, Father, I cherish her. She is my equal; she will never allow me to be anything but my true self. She has no illusions, about herself, about her situation - about me."

Sarek knew now that he had no hope of dissuading his son, but he had to ask: "And she returns your affections?"

"Yes." Spock's answer was clear and emphatic. His father had not expected any other reply.

"What is it you request of me, then? My consent? Our society no longer demands such formality, nor does our family. T'Pring has chosen another; you are free to find your mate where you wish."

"I have found her, Father." Spock leaned forward. "Yet I would not bring undue censure upon you and Mother for my own behavior. If my bonding with Tanafau would create hardship of any kind – " What _would_ he do? He had not considered that there was any hardship his parents could not manage. Fortunately he did not have to finish his statement. Sarek rose as if to leave the room.

"Your concern is commendable, Spock. Indeed, you show admirable sensitivity to all parties involved. However, you must make your own decision based on the facts, and I must act, if necessary, based on the result of your decision. No one can know how this may play out. You have had my advice; you may apply it as you wish."

"Father – "

Sarek turned as Spock stood.

"Your advice is welcome, and I understand your position in this situation. However, I trust that, whatever decision I make, you will not – alter your opinion of my character." He suddenly felt as though he were a child, trying to be dignified in the face of apparent disapproval.

His father said, "No matter what you choose, Spock, my opinion of your character will remain a positive one."

"Thank you, Father."

As Sarek left the room with a nod, Spock sank back into his chair. Now all he had to do was ask her.

 

Amanda didn't need to be a telepath to know he had something on his mind.

"You seem preoccupied," she said gently to her son. They were walking in the arboretum, her arm in his, as if they were at home on Vulcan. He did not look down at her but said calmly, "I have had much to think about, these last several days."

"True," she smiled. "Perhaps once our party returns to Vulcan you'll have some peace and quiet to ponder."

"I do not anticipate such peace. Not yet."

Amanda stopped to search his face. "Spock, tell me. What's on your mind?"

"Tanafau - " The name now seemed strange to him, after speaking her true name. "I wish to bond with her."

His mother stared. Not for the first time, he wished he could access her thoughts; then she said, "Spock, that's - wonderful."

"You have no objection?"

"Objection? Of course not. She's my friend, and I love her. And the more I see the two of you together, the more it makes sense." Her eyes narrowed. "You've already spoken to Sarek about this, haven't you." He nodded. "He doesn't think it'll work?"

"It seems not."

They walked on for a bit. Then she said, "Your father walks a narrow line between tradition and innovation. He lived over fifty years as a traditional Vulcan man before he met me; I am forever grateful that he managed to overcome Vulcan attitudes in order to make me his wife." She turned to Spock and went on, "He probably told you how difficult it would be, bonding with a woman of another race, particularly a Romulan. He wants to spare you the struggle for acceptance."

"I have been engaged in a struggle for acceptance since I was old enough to recognize it."

"Of course you have, but he can't relate to that. Just remember, Spock: it was hard for him to break with tradition. It will be less difficult for you, because of his actions. Not easy, mind you. But I don't think you will run into the same strength of opposition we did."

"Because Vulcan society does not regard my actions as noteworthy?"

"No. Because you don't belong to them. You belong out here, among the stars, if you'll pardon a flight of fancy."

"Always, Mother."

"Now tell me," she smiled. "How are you going to ask her?"

Tanafau stood at McCoy's side as they approached the biobed where the admiral lay, conscious but under medical supervision. He looked up as they came near and the color ran out of his face. McCoy hung back a little to keep an eye on his vitals, and Tanafau stepped up to the side of the bed and stared down at the sick man. He would not meet her eye, but tried to maintain an aloof expression. As soon as she spoke, the expression faded.

"The Klingons say that revenge is a dish best served cold," she said quietly. "This is my revenge, Komack: first, that you will go back to Starfleet a broken man; even if your shame is not published you will know it, and I will know it. Second, that you will never again torment any creature the way you tried to torment me."

"Tried - and succeeded," he almost spat, and now he did look in her eye, venomous, unrepentant.

She shook her head. "No. Did you think I was a stranger to physical mistreatment? Did you think that I, a commander of the fleet of the Romulan Empire, would succumb to your pathetic attempts at torture? However painful or degrading, I endured them. I did not submit to you in any way. The only reason I spoke of them now is to condemn you, not to redeem myself. I would never have spoken of them had they not been revealed by another."

"Because you're ashamed."

Her expression was impatient now. "Again, no. Because they are in the past. I can only go forward, Komack. You should learn that now, before it is too late. And my last revenge - "

The door opened and Spock entered the room, pausing to stand next to McCoy. She looked pityingly at Komack and finished:

"My third and coldest revenge is to live, and to find happiness."


	21. Hlai'vna

They returned the ambassador's party directly to Vulcan, and Spock obtained leave for a four-hour period to beam down with them. He excused himself immediately after they had returned to Sarek and Amanda's house and was gone for half an hour; the two women spoke together on the verandah.

"So you return triumphant," said Amanda softly, watching her friend gaze out over the garden. "Even if no one but ourselves knows it."

"Yes," Tanafau replied. "And it is due to you and Sarek, and Spock, that my past has been cleansed. My recent past, at any rate."

"Do you regret having it all out in the open?"

She said simply, "I wouldn't have dragged it out myself, but now it has been dealt with. I can turn my face forward again. To more pleasant matters."

 _One of which involves my son,_ thought Amanda, knowing what Spock was up to, but she kept it inside. For now.

The sun was setting when Spock reappeared. Tanafau was alone on the verandah; she watched as he climbed from the guest house. He wore a voluminous cloak, somber brown, adorned with Vulcan glyphs, black shirt, trousers of the same color and fabric as the cloak. Only his regulation Starfleet boots were familiar. He strode up to her and stopped a few feet away.

"Are you prepared for a short walk?" She nodded. All he had asked her to do was wait for him. He took her hand and they went down another path which led around the garden into the untended land beyond.

They left the paved road as the sun was setting and the path began to rise gradually. Eventually it leveled off and they came to a clearing near the entrance to a cave in the side of a hill. She realized she was looking down at Amanda's house, over a kilometer away. Spock stopped walking and stood at the edge of the clearing, where the ground fell away in a steep slope. He looked up at the skies; the stars were emerging, thick against the blackness of the sky, as the sun's rays faded.

'What is this place?" she asked quietly. It seemed inappropriate to speak any louder.

Without looking around, Spock said, "This is part of my family's land, a retreat, used for meditation and seclusion. We come here during the time of _pon farr_."

She knew of this phenomenon and felt a pang of alarm. He seemed to sense it and said calmly, "It is not my time. I brought you here for another purpose."

He came over to where she stood, not touching her, hands at his sides. She could see his pale face and the reflection of stars in his dark eyes, on his hair. "Do you know of the _kunat so'lik_?" he asked softly. She shook her head. He went on, "It is a Vulcan custom, our way of proposing marriage."

Her heart leaped. She held her tongue, waiting.

Spock looked at her and felt his own heart pounding. He had never experienced such feelings for T'Pring, or any other. His emotions confirmed what his logic had told him already, and he spoke.

" _Jol-ao au_ (I love you)," he said in her own language, then in Vulcan, " _Taluhk nash-veh k'dular_ (I cherish thee). I declare now that I desire you for my mate _."_

A phrase no one had ever spoken to her. Words she never thought to hear. A voice she never expected to hear speak it. She felt a surge of certainty, the feeling she had had when accepting her first command.

" _Au'e_ ," she whispered. It was the most emphatic affirmative in her vocabulary. _"Nhrai'anna_ (Let us bond)."

Spock bowed his head for a moment, and when he lifted it his face was serene. But his eyes were full of joy. He opened his cloak and swept it around both of them and she buried herself in his arms, his scent, his heat, and was content as she had never been before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not the end of their story, just the end of this story. Coming soon: another story about how they go on with their lives and what gets in the way of their bonding.
> 
> I can't recommend enough the Diane Duane novels _My Enemy, My Ally_ and _The Romulan Way_. And a great debt of gratitude goes to D. C. Fontana, who gave the Romulans character in the original television series.

**Author's Note:**

> All characters and settings are the property of their respective copyright holders. As far as the author is aware, this work is not based on, adapted, copied, or derived from any other work in any medium.


End file.
